UC-NRLF 


CMRSCWIGGS 

OF 

THE  CABBAGE  PATCH 


GIFT   OF 
A.    F.    Morrison 


MBS.  wiaas  or  THE 

CABBAGKE   PATCH 


MBS.  WIGGS  OF  THE 
CABBAGE  PATCH 

BY 

ALICE   CALDWELL  HEGAN 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE  CENTIJEY  CO, 
NEW  YORK  MCMII 


Copyright,  1901,  by 
THE  CENTURY  Co. 


GIFT  OF 
-A.F 


THIS  LITTLE  STORY  IS 
LOVINGLY  DEDICATED 
TO  MY  MOTHER,  WHO 
FOR  YEARS  HAS  BEEN 
THE  GOOD  ANGEL  OP 
'THE  CABBAGE  PATCH' 


M107288 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

i  MRS.  WIGGS'S  PHILOSOPHY 3 

ii  WAYS  AND  MEANS 16 

in  THE  "  CHRISTMAS  LADY  " 31 

iv  THE  ANNEXATION  OF  CUBY 45 

v  A  REMINISCENCE 54 

vi  A  THEATER  PARTY 67 

vii  "MR.  BOB" 84 

vin  MRS.  WIGGS  AT  HOME 98 

rx  How  SPRING  CAME  TO  THE   CABBAGE 

PATCH 112 

x  AUSTRALIA'S  MISHAP 128 

xi  THE  BENEFIT  DANCE   .  .  139 


MUS.  WiaGS    OF   THE 
CABBAGE    PATCH 


MES.  WIGGS  OF  THE 
CABBAGE  PATCH 

CHAPTER  I 

MKS.    WIGGS  *S   PHILOSOPHY 

"  In  the  mud  and  scum  of  things 
Something  always,  always  sings  !  " 

Y,  but  it  's  nice  an'  cold 
this  mornin ' !  The  ther 
mometer  's  done  fell  up 
to  zero ! ' ' 

Mrs.  Wiggs  made  the 
statement  as  cheerfully  as  if  her  elbows 
were  not  sticking  out  through  the  boy's 
coat  that  she  wore,  or  her  teeth  chatter 
ing  in  her  head  like  a  pair  of  castanets. 
But,  then,  Mrs.  Wiggs  was  a  philoso 
pher,  and  the  sum  and  substance  of  her 
philosophy  lay  in  keeping  the  dust  off 
3 


Mrs,  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 

her  rose-colored  spectacles.  When  Mr. 
Wiggs  traveled  to  eternity  by  the  alco 
hol  route,  she  buried  his  faults  with 
him,  and  for  want  of  better  virtues  to 
extol  she  always  laid  stress  on  the  fine 
hand  he  wrote.  It  was  the  same  way 
when  their  little  country  home  burned 
and  she  had  to  come  to  the  city  to  seek 
work;  her  one  comment  was:  " Thank 
God,  it  was  the  pig  instid  of  the  baby 
that  was  burned !  ' ' 

So  this  bleak  morning  in  December 
she  pinned  the  bed-clothes  around  the 
children  and  made  them  sit  up  close  to 
the  stove,  while  she  pasted  brown  paper 
over  the  broken  window-pane  and  made 
sprightly  comments  on  the  change  in 
the  weather. 

The  Wiggses  lived  in  the  Cabbage 
Patch.    It  was  not  a  real  cabbage  patch, 
but  a  queer  neighborhood,  where  ram 
shackle  cottages  played  hop-scotch  over 
4 


Mrs.  Wiggs  's  Philosophy 

the  railroad  tracks.  There  were  no 
streets,  so  when  a  new  house  was 
built  the  owner  faced  it  any  way  his 
fancy  prompted.  Mr.  Bagby's  grocery, 
it  is  true,  conformed  to  convention,  and 
presented  a  solid  front  to  the  railroad 
track,  but  Miss  Hazy 's  cottage  shied  off 
sidewise  into  the  Wiggses*  yard,  as  if 
it  were  afraid  of  the  big  freight-trains 
that  went  thundering  past  so  many 
times  a  day;  and  Mrs.  Schultz's  front 
room  looked  directly  into  the  Eichorns' 
kitchen.  The  latter  was  not  a  bad  ar 
rangement,  however,  for  Mrs.  Schultz 
had  been  confined  to  her  bed  for  ten 
years,  and  her  sole  interest  in  life  con 
sisted  in  watching  what  took  place  in 
her  neighbor's  family. 

The  Wiggses 7  house  was  the  most  im 
posing  in  the  neighborhood.    This  was 
probably  due  to  the  fact  that  it  had  two 
front  doors  and  a  tin  roof.    One  door 
5 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


was  nailed  up,  and  the  other  opened  out 
doors,  but  you  would  never  guess  it 
from  the  street.  When  the  country 
house  burned,  one  door  had  been  saved. 
So  Mrs.  Wiggs  and  the  boys  brought  it 
to  the  new  home  and  skilfully  placed  it 
at  the  front  end  of  the  side  porch.  But 
the  roof  gave  the  house  its  chief  dis 
tinction  ;  it  was  the  only  tin  roof  in  the 
Cabbage  Patch.  Jim  and  Billy  had 
made  it  of  old  cans  which  they  picked 
up  on  the  commons. 

Jim  was  fifteen  and  head  of  the  fam 
ily;  his  shoulders  were  those  of  a  man, 
and  were  bent  with  work,  but  his  body 
dwindled  away  to  a  pair  of  thin  legs  that 
seemed  incapable  of  supporting  the  bur 
den  imposed  upon  them.  In  his  anx 
ious  eyes  was  the  look  of  a  bread-winner 
who  had  begun  the  struggle  too  soon. 
Life  had  been  a  tragedy  to  Jim:  the 
tragedy  that  comes  when  a  child 's  sen- 
6 


Mrs.  Wiggs  's  Philosophy 

sitive  soul  is  forced  to  meet  the  respon 
sibilities  of  manhood,  yet  lacks  the  wis 
dom  that  only  experience  can  bring. 

Billy  Wiggs  was  differently  consti 
tuted;  responsibilities  rested  upon  him 
as  lightly  as  the  freckles  on  his  nose. 
When  occasion  or  his  mother  demanded 
he  worked  to  good  purpose,  with  a  te 
nacity  that  argued  well  for  his  future 
success,  but  for  the  most  part  he  played 
and  fought  and  got  into  trouble  with 
the  aptitude  characteristic  of  the  aver 
age  small  boy. 

It  was  Mrs.  Wiggs  7s  boast  that  her 
three  little  girls  had  geography  names; 
first  came  Asia,  then  Australia.  When 
the  last  baby  arrived,  Billy  had  stood 
looking  down  at  the  small  bundle  and 
asked  anxiously:  "Are  you  goin'  to 
have  it  fer  a  boy  or  a  girl,  ma!"  Mrs. 
Wiggs  had  answered:  "A  girl,  Billy, 
an'  her  name  7s  Europena!" 
7 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


On  this  particular  Sunday  morning 
Mrs.  Wiggs  bustled  about  the  kitchen  in 
unusual  haste. 

"I  am  goin-  to  make  you  all  some 
nice  Irish  pertater  soup  fer  dinner," 
she  said,  as  she  came  in  from  the  parlor, 
where  she  kept  her  potatoes  and  onions. 
"The  boys  '11  be  in  soon,  an'  we  '11 
have  to  hurry  and  git  through  'fore 
the  childern  begin  to  come  to  Sunday- 
school.  ' ' 

For  many  years  Sunday  afternoon 
had  been  a  trying  time  in  the  neighbor 
hood,  so  Mrs.  Wiggs  had  organized  a 
Sunday-school  class  at  which  she  pre 
sided. 

"If  there  don't  come  Chris  an'  Pete 
a 'ready!"  said  Asia,  from  her  post  by 
the  stove;  "I  bet  they  've  had  their 
dinner,  an'  jes'  come  early  to  git  some 
of  ours!" 

1  '  Why,  Asia ! ' '  exclaimed  Mrs.  Wiggs, 
'  8 


Mrs.  Wiggs's  Philosophy 

"that  ain't  hospit'le,  an'  Chris  with 
one  leg,  too!  'T  ain't  no  trouble  at  all. 
All  I  got  to  do  is  to  put  a  little  more 
water  in  the  soup,  an'  me  and  Jim  won't 
take  but  one  piece  of  bread." 

When  Jim  and  Billy  came  in  they 
found  their  places  at  the  table  taken,  so 
they  sat  on  the  floor  and  drank  their 
soup  out  of  tea-cups. 

"Gee!"  said  Billy,  after  the  third 
help,  "I  've  drinken  so  much  that  when 
I  swallers  a  piece  er  bread  I  can  hear 
it  splash!" 

"Well,  you  boys  git  up  now,  an'  go 
out  and  bring  me  in  a  couple  of  planks 
to  put  acrost  the  cheers  fer  the  childern 
to  set  on. ' ' 

By  two  o  'clock  the  Sunday-school  had 
begun;  every  seat  in  the  kitchen,  avail 
able  and  otherwise,  was  occupied.  The 
boys  sat  in  the  windows  and  on  the 
table,  and  the  girls  squeezed  together  on 
9 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 

the  improvised  benches.  Mrs.  Wiggs 
stood  before  them  with  a  dilapidated 
hymn-book  in  her  hand. 

"Now,  you  all  must  hush  talking  so 
we  kin  all  sing  a  hymn;  I  '11  read  it 
over,  then  we  '11  all  sing  it  together. 

'  When  upon  life's  billers  you  are  tempest  tossed, 
When  you  are  discouraged  thinkin'  all  is  lost, 
Count  yer  many  blessin's,  name  'em  one  by  one, 
An'  it  will  surprise  you  what  the  Lord  hath  done ! ' n 

Clear  and  strong  rose  the  childish 
voices  in  different  keys  and  regardless 
of  time,  but  with  a  genuine  enthusiasm 
that  was  in  itself  a  blessing.  When 
they  had  sung  through  the  three  stanzas 
Mrs.  Wiggs  began  the  lesson. 

"What  did  we  study  'bout  last  Sun 
day?"  she  asked. 

No  response,  save  a  smothered  giggle 
from  two  of  the  little  girls. 

"Don't  you  all  remember  what  the 
Lord  give  Moses  up  on  the  mountain?" 
10 


Mrs.  Wiggs  's  Philosophy 

A  hand  went  up  in  the  corner,  and  an 
eager  voice  cried: 

"Yas'm,  I  know!  Lord  give  Moses 
ten  tallers,  an'  he  duveled  'em." 

Before  Mrs.  Wiggs  could  enter  into 
an  argument  concerning  this  new  ver 
sion  of  sacred  history,  she  was  hit  in  the 
eye  with  a  paper  wad.  It  was  aimed  at 
Billy,  but  when  he  dodged  she  became 
the  victim.  This  caused  some  delay,  for 
she  had  to  bathe  the  injured  member, 
and  during  the  interval  the  Sunday- 
school  became  riotous. 

"Mith  Wiggs,  make  Tommy  thop 
thpittin'  terbaccer  juice  in  my  hat!" 

"Miss  Wiggs,  I  know  who  hit 
you!" 

"Teacher,  kin  I  git  a  drink?" 

It  was  not  until  Mrs.  Wiggs,  with  a 
stocking   tied   over   her   eye,    emerged 
from  the  bedroom  and  again  took  com 
mand  that  order  was  restored. 
11 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


"  Where  is  Bethlehem  T '  she  began, 
reading  from  an  old  lesson-paper. 

"You  kin  search  me!"  promptly  an 
swered  Chris. 

She  ignored  his  remark,  and  passed 
to  the  next,  who  said,  half  doubtfully : 

"Ain't  it  in  Alabama V9 

"No,  it  's  in  the  Holy  Land,"  she 
said. 

A  sudden  commotion  arose  in  the 
back  of  the  room.  Billy,  by  a  series  of 
skilful  manoeuvers,  had  succeeded  in 
removing  the  chair  that  held  one  of  the 
planks,  and  a  cascade  of  small,  indig 
nant  girls  were  tobogganing  sidewise 
down  the  incline.  A  fight  was  immi 
nent,  but  before  any  further  trouble  oc 
curred  Mrs.  Wiggs  locked  Billy  in  the 
bedroom,  and  became  mistress  of  the 
situation. 

"What  I  think  you  childern  need 
is  a  talk  about  fussin'  an'  figktin'. 
12 


Mrs.  Wiggs  9s  Philosophy 

There  ain't  no  use  in  me  teachin'  what 
they  done  a  thousand  years  ago,  when 
you  ain't  got  manners  'nough  to  listen 
at  what  I  am  sayin'.  I  recollect  one 
time  durin'  the  war,  when  the  soldiers 
was  layin'  'round  the  camp,  tryin'  they 
best  to  keep  from  freezin'  to  death,  a 
preacher  come  'long  to  hold  a  service. 
An'  when  he  got  up  to  preach  he  sez, 
1  Friends,'  sez  he,  'my  tex'  is  Chill- 
blains.  They  ain't  no  use  a-preachin' 
religion  to  men  whose  whole  thought  is 
set  on  their  feet.  Now,  you  fellows  git 
some  soft-soap  an'  pour  it  in  yer  shoes, 
an'  jes'  keep  them  shoes  on  till  yer  feet 
gits  well,  an'  the  nex'  time  I  come 
'round  yer  minds  '11  be  better  prepared 
to  receive  the  word  of  the  Lord.'  Now, 
that  's  the  way  I  feel  'bout  this  here 
Sunday-school.  First  an'  fo'most,  I  am 
goin'  to  learn  you  all  manners.  Jes' 
one  thought  I  want  you  to  take  away, 
13 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 

an '  that  is,  it  's  sinful  to  fuss.  Ma  use ' 
to  say  livin'  was  like  quiltin'— you  orter 
keep  the  peace  an'  do  'way  with  the 
scraps.  Now,  what  do  I  want  you  all  to 
remember!" 

" Don't  fuss!"  came  the  prompt  an 
swer. 

"That  's  right;  now  we  '11  sing  'Pull 
fer  the  shore.' 

When  the  windows  had  ceased  to  rat 
tle  from  the  vibrations  of  the  lusty 
chorus,  Mrs.  Wiggs  lifted  her  hands 
for  silence. 

"0  Lord!"  she  prayed  earnestly, 
"help  these  here  childern  to  be  good  an' 
kind  to  each  other,  an'  to  their  mas 
an'  their  pas.  Make  'em  thankful  fer 
whatever  they  've  got,  even  if  it  ain't 
but  a  little.  Show  us  all  how  to  live 
like  you  want  us  to  live,  an'  praise  God 
from  whom  all  blessin's  flow.  Amen." 

As  the  last  youngster  scampered  out 
14 


Mrs.  Wiggs  's  Philosophy 

of  the  yard,  Mrs.  Wiggs  turned  to  the 
window  where  Jim  was  standing.  He 
had  taken  no  part  in  the  singing,  and 
was  silent  and  preoccupied.  "Jim," 
said  his  mother,  trying  to  look  into  his 
face,  "you  never  had  on  yer  overcoat 
when  you  come  in.  You  ain't  gone  an' 
sold  it?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  boy,  heavily;  "but 
't  ain't  'nough  fer  the  rent.  I  got  to 
figger  it  out  some  other  way." 

Mrs.  Wiggs  put  her  arm  about  his 
shoulder,  and  together  they  looked  out 
across  the  dreary  commons. 

"Don't  you  worry  so,  Jimmy,"  said 
she.  ' '  Mebbe  I  kin  git  work  to-morrow, 
or  you  '11  git  a  raise,  or  something 
they  '11  be  some  way." 

Little  she  guessed  what  the  way  was 
to  be. 


15 


CHAPTER   II 


WAYS    AND    MEANS 

"Ah  I  well  may  the  children  weep  before  you ! 

They  are  weary  ere  they  run ; 
They  have  never  seen  the  sunshine,  nor  the  glory 
Which  is  brighter  than  the  sun." 

HE  cold  wave  that  was 
ushered  in  that  Decem 
ber  morning  was  the  be 
ginning  of  a  long  series 
of  days  that  vied  with 
each  other  as  to  which  could  induce  the 
mercury  to  drop  the  lowest.  The  de 
scent  of  the  temperature  seemed  to  have 
a  like  effect  on  the  barrel  of  potatoes 
and  the  load  of  coal  in  the  Wiggses' 
parlor. 

Mrs.  Wiggs's  untiring  efforts  to  find 
employment  had  met  with  no  success, 
16 


Ways  and  Means 

and  Jim's  exertions  were  redoubled; 
day  by  day  his  scanty  earnings  became 
less  sufficient  to  meet  the  demands  of  the 
family. 

On  Christmas  eve  they  sat  over  the 
stove,  after  the  little  ones  had  gone  to 
bed,  and  discussed  the  situation.  The 
wind  hurled  itself  against  the  house  in 
a  very  frenzy  of  rage,  shaking  the 
icicles  from  the  window-ledge  and  hiss 
ing  through  the  patched  panes.  The 
snow  that  sifted  in  through  the  loose 
sash  lay  unmelted  on  the  sill.  Jim  had 
a  piece  of  old  carpet  about  him,  and 
coughed  with  almost  every  breath.  Mrs. 
Wiggs's  head  was  in  her  hands,  and 
the  tears  that  trickled  through  her 
crooked  fingers  hissed  as  they  fell  on 
the  stove.  It  was  the  first  time  Jim  had 
ever  seen  her  give  up. 

"  Seems  like  we  '11  have  to  ast  fer 
help,  Jim,"  she  said.  "I  can't  ast  fer 
2  17 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 

credit  at  Mr.  Bagby's;  seems  like  I  'd 
never  have  the  courage  to  pull  agin  a 
debt.  What  do  you  think?  I  guess— it 
looks  like  mebbe  we  '11  have  to  apply  to 
the  organization. " 

Jim's  eyes  flashed.  "Not  yet,  ma!" 
he  said,  firmly.  "It  'ud  be  with  us  like 
it  was  with  the  Hornbys;  they  did  n't 
have  nothin'  to  eat,  and  they  went  to 
the  organization  an'  the  man  asted  'em 
if  they  had  a  bed  or  a  table,  an'  when 
they  said  yes,  he  said,  'Well,  why  don't 
you  sell  'em?'  No,  ma!  As  long  as 
we  've  got  coal  I  '11  git  the  vittles  some 
way!"  He  had  to  pause,  for  a  violent 
attack  of  coughing  shook  him  from  head 
to  foot.  "I  think  I  can  git  a  night  job 
next  week ;  one  of  the  market-men  comes 
in  from  the  country  ever'  night  to  git  a 
early  start  nex'  mornin',  an'  he  ast  me 
if  I  'd  sleep  in  his  wagon  from  three  to 
six  an'  keep  his  vegetables  from  bein' 
18 


Ways  and  Means 

stole.  That  'ud  gimme  time  to  git  home 
an'  git  breakfast,  an'  be  down  to  the 
fact'ry  by  seven." 

"But,  Jimmy  boy,"  cried  his  mother, 
her  voice  quivering  with  anxiety,  "you 
never  could  stan'  it  night  an'  day  too! 
No,  I  '11  watch  the  wagon;  I  '11-" 

A  knock  on  the  parlor  door  inter 
rupted  her.  She  hastily  dried  her  eyes 
and  smoothed  her  hair.  Jim  went  to 
the  door. 

"I  've  a  Christmas  basket  for  you!" 
cried  a  cheery  voice. 

"Is  this  Christmas!"  Jim  asked 
dully. 

The  girl  in  the  doorway  laughed. 
She  was  tall  and  slender,  but  Jim  could 
only  see  a  pair  of  sparkling  eyes  be 
tween  the  brim  of  the  hat  and  her  high 
fur  collar.  It  was  nice  to  hear  her 
laugh,  though;  it  made  things  seem 
warmer  somehow.  The  colored  man  be- 
19 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


hind  her  deposited  a  large  basket  on  the 
doorstep. 

"It  's  from  the  church, "  she  ex 
plained;  "a  crowd  of  us  are  out  in  the 
omnibus  distributing  baskets. " 

"Well,  how  'd  you  ever  happen  to 
come  here?"  cried  Mrs.  Wiggs,  who 
had  come  to  the  door. 

' '  There  is  one  for  each  of  the  mission- 
school  families;  just  a  little  Christmas 
greeting,  you  know." 

Mrs.  Wiggs 's  spirits  were  rising 
every  minute.  "Well,  that  certainly  is 
kind  an'  thoughtful  like,"  she  said. 
"Won't  you—  "  she  hesitated;  the  room 
she  had  just  left  was  not  in  a  condition 
to  receive  guests,  but  Mrs.  Wiggs  was 
a  Kentuckian.  "Come  right  in  an' 
git  warm,"  she  said  cordially;  "the 
stove  's  died  down  some,  but  you  could 
git  thawed  out. ' ' 

"No,  thank  you,  I  can't  come  in," 
20 


Ways  and  Means 

said  the  young  lady,  with  a  side  glance 
at  Jim,  who  was  leaning  against  the 
door.  "Have  you  plenty  of  coal?"  she 
asked,  in  an  undertone. 

"Oh,  yes'm,  thank  you,"  said  Mrs. 
Wiggs,  smiling  reassuringly.  Her  tone 
might  have  been  less  confident,  but  for 
Jim's  warning  glance.  Every  fiber  of 
his  sensitive  nature  shrank  from  asking 
help. 

The  girl  was  puzzled ;  she  noticed  the 
stamp  of  poverty  on  everything  in  sight 
except  the  bright  face  of  the  little 
woman  before  her. 

"Well,"  she  said  doubtfully,  "if  you 
ever  want— to  come  to  see  me,  ask  for 
Miss  Lucy  Olcott  at  Terrace  Park. 
Good  night,  and  a  happy  Christmas!" 

She    was    gone,    and    the    doorway 
looked  very  black  and  lonesome  in  con 
sequence.    But  there  was  the  big  basket 
to  prove  she  was  not  merely  an  appari- 
21 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


tion,  and  it  took  both  Jim  and  his 
mother  to  carry  it  in.  Sitting  on  the 
floor,  they  unpacked  it.  There  were  veg 
etables,  oatmeal,  fruit,  and  even  tea  and 
coffee.  But  the  surprise  was  at  the  very 
bottom !  A  big  turkey,  looking  so  com 
ical  with  his  legs  stuck  in  his  body  that 
Jim  laughed  outright. 

"It  's  the  first  turkey  that  's  been  in 
this  house  fer  many  a  day!"  said  Mrs. 
Wiggs,  delightedly,  as  she  pinched  the 
fat  fowl.  "I  Aspect  Europena  '11  be 
skeered  of  it,  it  's  so  big.  My,  but  we  '11 
have  a  good  dinner  to-morrow!  I  '11 
git  Miss  Hazy  an'  Chris  to  come  over 
an'  spend  the  day,  and  I  '11  carry  a 
plate  over  to  Mrs.  Schultz,  an'  take  a 
little  o'  this  here  tea  to  ole  Mrs.  Law- 
son." 

The  cloud  had  turned  inside  out  for 
Mrs.  Wiggs,  and  only  the  silver  lining 
was  visible.  Jim  was  doing  a  sum  on 
22 


Ways  and  Means 

the  brown  paper  that  came  over  the 
basket,  and  presently  he  looked  up  and 
said  slowly: 

"Ma,  I  guess  we  can't  have  the  tur 
key  this  year.  I  kin  sell  it  fer  a  dollar 
seventy-five,  and  that  would  buy  us  hog- 
meat  fer  a  good  while. ' ' 

Mrs.  Wiggs's  face  fell,  and  she 
twisted  her  apron-string  in  silence.  She 
had  pictured  the  joy  of  a  real  Christmas 
dinner,  the  first  the  youngest  children 
had  ever  known;  she  had  already 
thought  of  half  a  dozen  neighbors  to 
whom  she  wanted  to  send  "a  little 
snack.7'  But  one  look  at  Jim's  anxious 
face  recalled  their  circumstances. 

"Of  course  we  '11  sell  it,"  she  said 
brightly.  "You  have  got  the  longest 
head  fer  a  boy!  We  '11  sell  it  in  the 
mornin',  an'  buy  sausage  fer  dinner, 
an'  I  '11  cook  some  of  these  here  nice 
vegetables  an'  put  a  orange  an'  some 
23 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


candy  at  each  plate,  an'  the  childern  '11 
never  know  nothin '  'bout  it.  Besides, ' ' 
she  added,  "if  you  ain't  never  et  turkey 
meat  you  don't  know  how  good  it  is." 

But  in  spite  of  her  philosophy,  after 
Jim  had  gone  to  bed  she  slipped  over 
and  took  one  more  look  at  the  turkey. 

"I  think  I  would  n't  'a'  minded  so 
much,"  she  said,  wistfully,  "ef  they 
had  n't  'a'  sent  the  cramberries,  too!" 

For  ten  days  the  basket  of  provisions 
and  the  extra  money  made  by  Jim's 
night  work  and  Mrs.  Wiggs 's  washing 
supplied  the  demands  of  the  family; 
but  by  the  end  of  January  the  clouds 
had  gathered  thicker  than  before. 

Mrs.  Wiggs 's  heart  was  heavy,  one 
night,  as  she  tramped  home  through  the 
snow  after  a  hard  day's  work.  The 
rent  was  due,  the  coal  was  out,  and  only 
a  few  potatoes  were  left  in  the  barrel. 
But  these  were  mere  shadow  troubles, 
24 


Ways  and  Means 

compared  to  Jim's  illness;  he  had  been 
too  sick  to  go  to  the  factory  that  morn 
ing,  and  she  dared  not  think  what 
changes  the  day  may  have  brought.  As 
she  lifted  the  latch  of  her  rickety  door 
the  sobbing  of  a  child  greeted  her;  it 
was  little  Europena,  crying  for  food. 
For  three  days  there  had  been  no  bread 
in  the  house,  and  a  scanty  supply  of 
potatoes  and  beans  had  been  their  only 
nourishment. 

Mrs.  Wiggs  hastened  to  where  Jim 
lay  on  a  cot  in  the  corner;  his  cheeks 
were  flushed,  and  his  thin,  nervous  fin 
gers  picked  at  the  old  shawl  that  cov 
ered  him. 

"  Jim,"  she  said,  kneeling  beside  him 
and  pressing  his  hot  hand  to  her  cheek, 
"  Jim,  darling  lemme  go  fer  the  doctor. 
You  're  worser  than  you  was  this  morn- 
in',  an'— an'— I  'm  so  skeered!"  Her 
voice  broke  in  a  sob. 
25 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


Jim  tried  to  put  his  arm  around  her, 
but  something  hurt  him  in  his  chest 
when  he  moved,  so  he  patted  her  hand 
instead. 

" Never  mind,  ma,"  he  said,  his 
breath  coming  short;  "we  ain't  got  no 
money  to  buy  the  medicine,  even  if  the 
doctor  did  come.  You  go  git  some  sup 
per,  now;  an',  ma,  don't  worry;  I  'm 
goin'  to  take  keer  of  you  all!  Only— 
only,"  he  added,  wearily,  "I  guess  I 
can't  sleep  in  the  wagon  to-night." 

Slowly  the  hours  passed  until  mid 
night.  Mrs.  Wiggs  had  pulled  Jim's 
cot  close  to  the  stove,  and  applied  vigor 
ous  measures  to  relieve  him.  Her  ef 
forts  were  unceasing,  and  one  after 
another  the  homely  country  remedies 
were  faithfully  administered.  At  twelve 
o'clock  he  grew  restless. 

"Seems  like  I  'm  hot,  then  agin  I  'm 
cold,"  he  said,  speaking  with  difficulty. 
26 


Ways  and  Means 

"  Could  you  find  a  little  somethin'  more 
to  put  over  me,  ma?" 

Mrs.  Wiggs  got  up  and  went  toward 
the  bed.  The  three  little  girls  lay  hud 
dled  under  one  old  quilt,  their  faces 
pale  and  sunken.  She  turned  away 
abruptly,  and  looked  toward  the  corner 
where  Billy  slept  on  a  pallet.  The 
blankets  on  his  bed  were  insufficient 
even  for  him.  She  put  her  hands  over 
her  face,  and  for  a  moment  dry  sobs 
convulsed  her.  The  hardest  grief  is 
often  that  which  leaves  no  trace.  When 
she  went  back  to  the  stove  she  had  a 
smile  ready  for  the  sick  boy. 

"Here  's  the  very  thing,"  she  said; 
"it  's  my  dress  skirt.  I  don't  need  it  a 
mite,  settin'  up  here  so  clost  to  the  fire. 
See  how  nice  it  tucks  in  all  'round ! ' ' 

For  a  while  he  lay  silent,  then  he 
said:  "Ma,  are  you  Vake!" 

"Yes,  Jim." 

27 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


"Well,  I  bin  thinkin'  it  over.  If  I 
ain't  better  in  the  morning  I  guess—  " 
the  words  came  reluctantly— ' 'I  guess 
you  'd  better  go  see  the  Christmas  lady. 
I  would  n't  mind  her  knowin'  so  much. 
?T  won't  be  fer  long,  nohow,  cause  I 
kin  take  keer  of  you  all  soon— soon  's  I 
kin  git  up." 

The  talking  brought  on  severe  cough 
ing,  and  he  sank  back  exhausted. 

" Can't  you  go  to  sleep,  honey?" 
asked  his  mother. 

"No,  it  's  them  ole  wheels,"  he  said 
fretfully,  "them  wheels  at  the  fact'ry; 
when  I  git  to  sleep  they  keep  on  wakin' 
me  up." 

Mrs.  Wiggs 's  hands  were  rough  and 
knotted,  but  love  taught  them  to  be  gen 
tle  as  she  smoothed  his  hot  head. 

"  Want  me  to  tell  you  'bout  the  coun 
try,  Jim?"  she  asked. 

Since  he  was  a  little  boy  he  had  loved 
28 


Ways  and  Means 

to  hear  of  their  old  home  in  the  valley. 
His  dim  recollection  of  it  all  formed  his 
one  conception  of  heaven. 

' '  Yes,  ma ;  mebbe  it  will  make  me  fer- 
git  the  wheels, ' '  he  said. 

"Well,"  she  began,  putting  her  head 
beside  his  on  the  pillow,  so  he  could  not 
watch  her  face,  "it  was  all  jes'  like  a 
big  front  yard  without  no  fences,  an' 
the  flowers  did  n't  belong  to  folks  like 
they  do  over  on  the  avenue,  where  you 
dassent  pick  a  one;  but  they  was  God's, 
an'  you  was  welcome  to  all  you  could 
pull.  An'  there  was  trees,  Jim,  where 
you  could  climb  up  an'  git  big  red 
apples,  an'  when  the  frost  'ud  come 
they  'd  be  persimmons  that  'ud  jes' 
melt  in  yer  mouth.  An'  you  could  look 
'way  off  'crost  the  meaders,  an'  see  the 
trees  a-wavin'  in  the  sunshine,  an'  up 
over  yer  head  the  birds  'ud  be  singin' 
like  they  was  never  goin'  to  stop.  An' 
29 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 

yer  pa  an'  me  'ud  take  you  out  at  the 
harvestin'  time,  an'  you  'ud  play  on  the 
hay-stacks.  I  kin  remember  jes'  how 
you  looked,  Jim— a  fat  little  boy,  with 
red  cheeks  a-laughin'  all  the  time." 

Mrs.  Wiggs  could  tell  no  more,  for 
the  old  memories  were  too  much  for 
her.  Jim  scarcely  knew  when  she 
stopped;  his  eyes  were  half  closed,  and 
a  sweet  drowsiness  was  upon  him. 

"It  's  nice  an'  warm  in  the  sun 
shine,"  he  murmured;  "the  meaders 
an'  trees— laughin'  all  the  time!  Birds 
singin',  singin',  singin'." 

Then  Jim  began  to  sing  too,  softly 
and  monotonously,  and  the  sorrow  that 
had  not  come  with  years  left  his  tired 
face,  and  he  fearlessly  drifted  away  into 
the  Shadowy  Valley  where  his  lost 
childhood  lay. 


30 


CHAPTER  III 


"  The  rosy  glow  of  summer 

Is  on  thy  dimpled  cheek, 
While  in  thy  heart  the  winter 
Is  lying  cold  and  bleak. 

"But  this  shall  change  hereafter, 

When  years  have  done  their  part, 
And  on  thy  cheek  the  winter, 
And  summer  in  thy  heart." 


ATE  the  next  afternoon 
a  man  and  a  girl  were 
standing  in   the   Olcott 
reception     hall.        The 
lamps     had    not    been 
lighted,  but  the  blaze  from  the  back-log 
threw  a  cozy  glow  of  comfort  over  the 
crimson  curtains  and  on  the  mass  of 
bright-hued  pillows  in  the  window-seat. 
Robert  Bedding,   standing  with  his 
31 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


hat  in  his  hand,  would  have  been  gone 
long  ago  if  the  "Christmas  Lady"  had 
not  worn  her  violet  gown.  He  said  it 
always  took  him  half  an  hour  to  say 
good-by  when  she  wore  a  rose  in  her 
hair,  and  a  full  hour  when  she  had  on 
the  violet  dress. 

"By  Jove,  stand  there  a  minute  just 
as  you  are!  The  fire-light  shining 
through  your  hair  makes  you  look  like 
a  saint.  Little  Saint  Lucinda ! "  he  said 
teasingly,  as  he  tried  to  catch  her  hand. 
She  put  it  behind  her  for  safe-keeping. 

"Not  a  saint  at  all?"  he  went  on,  in 
mock  surprise;  "then  an  iceberg— a 
nice,  proper  little  iceberg." 

Lucy  Olcott  looked  up  at  him  for  a 
moment  in  silence ;  he  was  very  tall  and 
straight,  and  his  face  retained  much  of 
its  boyishness,  in  spite  of  the  firm, 
square  jaw. 

"Robert,"  she  said,  suddenly  grown 
32 


The  '  '  Christmas  Lady  ' ' 

serious,  "I  wish  you  would  do  some 
thing  for  me. ' ' 

"All  right;  what  is  it!'7  he  asked. 

She  timidly  put  her  hand  on  his,  and 
looked  up  at  him  earnestly. 

"It  's  about  Dick  Harris, "  she  said. 
"I  wish  you  would  not  be  with  him  so 
much. ' ' 

Bedding 's  face  clouded.  t  '  You  are  n  't 
afraid  to  trust  me?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  no;  it  is  n't  that,"  she  said  hur 
riedly;  "but,  Robert,  it  makes  people 
think  such  wrong  things  about  you;  I 
can't  bear  to  have  you  misjudged." 

Eedding  put  his  arm  around  her,  and 
together  they  stood  looking  down  into 
the  glowing  embers. 

"Tell  me  about  it,  little  girl;  what 
have  you  heard?"  he  asked. 

She  hesitated.    "It  was  n't  true  what 
they  said.    I  knew  it  was  n't  true,  but 
they  had  no  right  to  say  it." 
s  33 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


"Well,  let  's  hear  it,  anyway.  What 
was  it?" 

"Some  people  were  here  last  night 
from  New  Orleans;  they  asked  if  I 
knew  you— said  they  knew  you  and 
Dick  the  year  you  spent  there/' 

"Well!"  said  Redding. 

Lucy  evidently  found  it  difficult  to 
continue.  "They  said  some  horrid 
things  then,  just  because  you  were 
Dick's  friend." 

"What  were  they,  Lucy?" 

"They  told  me  that  you  were  both  as 
wild  as  could  be;  that  your  reputation 
was  no  better  than  his;  that— forgive 
me,  Robert,  for  even  repeating  it.  It 
made  me  very  angry,  and  I  told  them  it 
was  not  true— not  a  word  of  it;  that  it 
was  all  Dick's  fault;  that  he—" 

"Lucy,"  interrupted  Redding,  per 
emptorily,  "wait  until  you  hear  me! 
I  have  never  lied  to  you  about  anything, 
34 


The  i  i  Christmas  Lady  9 ' 

and  I  will  not  stoop  to  it  now.  Four 
years  ago,  when  those  people  knew  me, 
I  was  just  what  they  said.  Dick  Har 
ris  and  I  went  to  New  Orleans  straight 
from  college.  Neither  of  us  had  a  home 
or  people  to  care  about  us,  so  we  went 
in  for  a  good  time.  At  the  end  of  the 
year  I  was  sick  of  it  all,  braced  up,  and 
came  here.  Poor  Dick,  he  kept  on." 

At  his  first  words  the  color  had  left 
Lucy's  face,  and  she  had  slipped  to  the 
opposite  side  of  the  fire,  and  stood 
watching  him  with  horrified  eyes. 

1  i  But  you  were  never  like  Dick ! ' '  she 
protested. 

"Yes,"  he  continued  passionately, 
"and  but  for  God's  help  I  should  be 
like  him  still.  It  was  an  awful  pull, 
and  Heaven  only  knows  how  I  strug 
gled.  I  never  quite  saw  the  use  of  it 
all,  until  I  met  you  six  months  ago; 
then  I  realized  that  the  past  four  years 
35 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


had  been  given  me  in  which  to  make  a 
man  of  myself. ' ' 

As  he  finished  speaking  he  saw,  for 
the  first  time,  that  Lucy  was  crying. 
He  sprang  forward,  but  she  shrank 
away.  "No,  no,  don't  touch  me!  I  'm 
so  terribly  disappointed,  and  hurt,  and 
— stunned. " 

"But  you  surely  don't  love  me  the 
less  for  having  conquered  these  things 
in  the  past?" 

"I  don't  know,  I  don't  know,"  she 
said,  with  a  sob.  ' '  I  honored  and  ideal 
ized  you,  Robert.  I  can  never  think 
of  you  as  being  other  than  you  are 
now. ' ' 

"But  why  should  you?"  he  pleaded. 
"It  was  only  one  year  out  of  my  life; 
too  much,  it  's  true,  but  I  have  atoned 
for  it  with  all  my  might." 

The  intensity  and  earnestness  of  his 
voice  were  beginning  to  influence  her. 
36 


The  "Christmas  Lady" 

She  was  very  young,  with  the  stern,  un 
compromising  standards  of  girlhood; 
life  was  black  or  white  to  her,  and  time 
had  not  yet  filled  in  the  canvas  with  the 
myriad  grays  that  blend  into  one  an 
other  until  all  lines  are  effaced,  and 
only  the  Master  Artist  knows  the  boun 
daries. 

She  looked  up  through  her  tears. 
"I  '11  try  to  forgive  you,"  she  said, 
tremulously;  "but  you  must  promise 
to  give  up  your  friendship  for  Dick 
Harris. ' ' 

Redding  frowned  and  bit  his  lip. 
"That  's  not  fair!'7  he  said.  "You 
know  Dick  's  my  chum;  that  he  has  n't 
the  least  influence  over  me;  that  I  am 
about  the  only  one  to  stand  by  him." 

' '  I  am  not  afraid  of  his  influence,  but 
I  don't  want  people  to  see  you  together; 
it  makes  them  say  things." 

"But,  Lucy,  you  would  n't  have  me 
37 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 

go  back  on  him  1  Dick  has  a  big  heart ; 
he  's  trying  to  brace  up—  " 

"Oh,  nonsense!"  cried  Lucy,  impa 
tiently.  The  fire  in  her  eyes  had  dried 
the  tears.  "He  could  straighten  up  if 
he  wanted  to.  He  likes  to  drink  and 
gamble,  so  he  does  it,  and  you  keep 
him  in  countenance  by  your  friendship. 
Are  you  hesitating  between  us?"  she 
demanded  angrily. 

Redding 's  face  was  clouded,  and  he 
spoke  slowly:  "You  would  n't  ask  this 
of  me,  Lucy,  if  you  understood.  Dick 
and  I  have  been  chums  since  we  were 
boys.  He  came  to  Kentucky  three 
months  ago,  sick  and  miserable.  One 
day  he  came  into  the  office  and  said, 
'Bob,  you  've  pulled  through  all  right; 
do  you  think  it  's  too  late  for  me  to 
try?'  What  would  you  have  said?" 

"What  you  did,  probably,"  answered 
Lucy;  "but  I  would  have  profited  by 
38 


The  '  *  Christmas  Lady  9 ' 

the  one  experience,  for  he  has  hardly 
drawn  a  sober  breath  since."  She 
looked  out  of  the  window  across  the 
snowy  landscape,  and  in  her  face  was 
something  of  the  passionless  purity  of 
the  scene  upon  which  her  eyes  rested. 

"You  are  mistaken,"  he  cried  fierce 
ly.  "Because  you  have  seen  him  sev 
eral  times  in  that  condition,  you  have 
no  right  to  draw  such  a  conclusion.  He 
is  weak,  nobody  denies  it ;  but  what  can 
you  know  of  the  struggle  he  makes,  of 
his  eagerness  to  do  better,  of  the  fight 
that  he  is  constantly  making  with  him 
self!" 

His  words  fell  on  deaf  ears. 

"Then  you  choose  Mr.  Harris!" 

' '  Lucy,  this  is  madness ;  it  is  not  like 
you  in  the  least!" 

The  girl  was  cold  with  anger  and  ex 
citement.  "  It  is  bad  enough, ' '  she  said, 
"to  know  that  my  defense  of  you  last 
39 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 

night  was  worse  than  useless,  but  to 
have  you  persist  in  a  friendship  with  a 
man  who  is  beneath  you  in  every  way  is 
more  than  I  can  stand."  She  slipped 
a  ring  from  her  finger,  and  held  it  to 
ward  him.  ' '  I  could  never  marry  a  man 
of  whom  I  was  ashamed. " 

The  shot  went  home;  there  was  a 
white  line  about  Bedding's  mouth  as  he 
turned  away. 

"I  would  not  ask  you  to,"  he  said, 
with  simple  dignity,  as  he  opened  the 
door. 

"Please,  ma'am,  is  this  Miss  01- 
cott's?"  asked  a  trembling  voice  on  the 
piazza.  A  shabby  woman  stood  looking 
at  them  with  wild  eyes;  her  gray  hair 
had  escaped  from  the  torn  shawl  that 
was  pinned  over  her  head,  and  stray 
locks  blew  across  her  face. 

Lucy  did  not  recognize  her.    "I  will 
speak  to  you  in  a  moment,"  she  said. 
40 


The  "Christmas  Lady" 

An  awkward  pause  followed,  each 
waiting  for  the  other  to  speak. 

* '  I  will  come  when  you  send  for  me, ' ' 
said  Redding,  without  looking  at  her, 
and,  turning  abruptly,  he  strode  down 
the  steps  and  out  into  the  dusk. 

Lucy  caught  her  breath  and  started 
forward,  then  she  remembered  the 
woman. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked  listlessly. 

The  woman  stepped  forward,  and  put 
out  a  hand  to  steady  herself  against  the 
door;  her  face  was  distorted,  and  her 
voice  came  in  gasps. 

"You  said  I  was  to  come  if  I  needed 
you.  It  's  Jimmy,  ma'am— he  's 
dead!" 

IT  may  be  experience  of  suffering  makes 
one  especially  tender  to  the  heart-aches 
of  others;  at  any  rate,  the  article  that 
Lucy  Olcott  wrote  for  the  paper  that 
41 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


night  held  the  one  touch  of  nature 
that  makes  the  whole  world  kin.  She 
had  taken  Aunt  Chloe,  the  old  colored 
servant,  and  gone  home  with  Mrs. 
Wiggs,  relieving  as  far  as  possible  the 
immediate  need  of  the  family.  Then 
she  had  come  home  and  written  their 
story,  telling  it  simply,  but  with  the 
passionate  earnestness  of  one  who,  for 
the  first  time,  has  come  into  contact  with 
poverty  and  starvation.  She  told  of  the 
plucky  struggle  made  by  the  boy,  of  his 
indomitable  courage,  of  his  final  defeat, 
and  she  ended  by  asking  help  of  any 
kind  for  the  destitute  family. 

A  week  later  she  sat  at  her  desk  be 
wildered.  Her  article,  written  on  the 
impulse  of  the  moment,  with  the  one 
thought  of  making  people  understand, 
had  fulfilled  its  mission.  For  seven 
days  she  had  done  nothing  but  answer 
questions  and  notes,  and  receive  contri- 
42 


The  "Christmas  Lady" 

butions  for  the  Wiggs  family.  Money 
had  arrived  from  all  over  the  State, 
and  from  every  class  of  society.  Eich- 
enstine  Bros,  sent  fifty  dollars,  and 
six  ragged  newsboys  came  to  present 
thirty  cents.  A  lavender  note,  with 
huge  monogram  and  written  in  white 
ink,  stated  that  some  of  the  girls  of  the 
"Gay  Burlesque  Troupe"  sent  a  few 
dimes  to  the  "kid's"  mother.  The  few 
dimes  amounted  to  fifteen  dollars.  Mrs. 
Van  Larkin's  coachman  had  to  wait 
with  her  note  while  Lucy  answered  the 
questions  of  a  lame  old  negro  who  had 
brought  a  quarter. 

"Maria  done  tole  me  what  was  writ 
in  de  papah  'bout  dat  pore  chile,"  he 
was  saying.  i '  I  sutenly  do  feel  sorry  f er 
he's  maw.  I  ain't  got  much,  but  I  tole 
Maria  I  guess  we  could  do  without 
some  thin'  to  gib  a  quahter." 

So  it  continued.  Old  and  young,  rich 
43 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  tine  Cabbage  Patch 


and  poor,  paid  their  substantial  tribute 
of  respect  to  Jimmy  Wiggs. 

Lucy  counted  up  the  long  line  of  fig 
ures.  "Three  hundred  and  sixty-five 
dollars!"  she  exclaimed;  "and  food, 
clothes,  and  coal  enough  to  last  them  a 
year!" 

It  was  like  a  direct  answer  to  her 
prayer,  and  yet  this  poor  little  sup 
pliant,  instead  of  being  duly  exalted, 
put  her  head  on  the  desk  and  wept  bit 
terly.  Now  that  the  need  of  the  Wiggs 
family  had  been  met,  another  appeal, 
silent  and  potent,  was  troubling  her 
heart. 

Redding  had  neither  come  nor  writ 
ten,  and  she  was  beginning  to  realize  the 
seriousness  of  their  misunderstanding. 


44 


CHAPTER  IV 


THE   ANNEXATION    OF    CUBY 

"  They  well  deserve  to  have, 
That  know  the  strongest  and  surest  way  to  get." 

LMOST  a  year  rolled 
over  the  Cabbage  Patch, 
and  it  was  nearing 
Christmas  again.  The 
void  left  in  Mrs. 
Wiggs's  heart  by  Jim's  death  could 
never  be  filled,  but  time  was  beginning 
to  soften  her  grief,  and  the  necessity 
for  steady  employment  kept  her  from 
brooding  over  her  trouble. 

It  was  still  needful  to  maintain  the 
strictest  economy,  for  half  the  money 
which  had  been  given  them  was  in  Miss 
45 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


Olcott's  keeping  as  a  safeguard  against 
another  rainy  day.  Mrs.  Wiggs  had  got 
as  much  washing  as  she  could  do ;  Asia 
helped  about  the  house,  and  Billy  did 
odd  jobs  wherever  he  could  find  them. 

The  direct  road  to  fortune,  however, 
according  to  Billy's  ideas,  could  best 
be  traveled  in  a  kindling-wagon,  and, 
while  he  was  the  proud  possessor  of  a 
dilapidated  wagon,  sole  relic  of  the  late 
Mr.  Wiggs,  he  had  nothing  to  hitch  to 
it.  Scarcely  a  week  passed  that  he  did 
not  agitate  the  question,  and,  as  Mrs. 
Wiggs  often  said,  "When  Billy  Wiggs 
done  set  his  head  to  a  thing,  he  's  as 
good  as  got  it!" 

So  she  was  not  surprised  when  he 
rushed  breathlessly  into  the  kitchen  one 
evening,  about  supper-time,  and  ex 
claimed  in  excited  tones:  "Ma,  I  Ve 
got  a  horse !  He  was  havin '  a  fit  on  the 
commons  an'  they  was  goin'  to  shoot 
46 


The  Annexation  of  Cuby 

him,  an'  I  ast  the  man  to  give  him  to 
me!" 

6 '  My  land,  Billy !  What  do  you  want 
with  a  fit-horse! "  asked  his  mother. 

"  'Cause  I  knowed  you  could  cure 
him.  The  man  said  if  I  took  him  I  'd 
have  to  pay  fer  cartin'  away  his  car 
cass,  but  I  said, i  All  right,  I  '11  take  him, 
anyway/  Come  on,  ma,  an'  see  him!" 
and  Billy  hurried  back  to  his  new  pos 
session. 

Mrs.  Wiggs  pinned  a  shawl  over  her 
head  and  ran  across  the  commons.  A 
group  of  men  stood  around  the  writhing 
animal,  but  the  late  owner  had  departed. 

' 'He  's  'most  gone,"  said  one  of  the 
men,  as  she  came  up.  "I  tole  Billy 
you  'd  beat  him  fer  takin'  that  ole  nag 
off  en  the  man's  han's." 

"Well,  I  won't,"  said  Mrs.  Wiggs, 
stoutly.  "  Billy  WTiggs  's  got  more 
sense  than  most  men  I  know.  That 
47 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


boss's  carcass  is  worth  some  thin';  I 
'spect  he  'd  bring  'bout  two  dollars 
dead,  an'  mebbe  more  livin'.  Anyway, 
I  'm  goin'  to  save  him  if  there  's  any 
save  to  him!" 

She  stood  with  her  arms  on  her  hips, 
and  critically  surveyed  her  patient. 
"I  '11  tell  you  what  's  the  matter  with 
him,"  was  her  final  diagnosis;  "his 
lights  is  riz.  Billy,  I  'm  goin'  home  fer 
some  medicine ;  you  set  on  his  head  so  's 
he  can't  git  up,  an'  ma  '11  be  right  back 
in  a  minute." 

The  crowd  which  had  collected  to  see 
the  horse  shot  began  to  disperse,  for  it 
was  supper-time,  and  there  was  nothing 
to  see  now  but  the  poor  suffering  ani 
mal,  with  Billy  Wiggs  patiently  sitting 
on  its  head. 

When  Mrs.  Wiggs  returned  she  car 
ried  a  bottle,  and  what  appeared  to  be 
a  large  marble.  "This  here  is  a  calo- 
48 


The  Annexation  of  Cuby 

mel  pill,"  she  explained.  "I  jes'  rolled 
the  calomel  in  with  some  soft,  light 
bread.  Now,  you  prop  his  jaw  open 
with  a  little  stick,  an7  I  '11  shove  it  in, 
an'  then  hole  his  head  back,  while  I 
pour  down  some  water  an'  turkentine 
outen  this  bottle." 

It  was  with  great  difficulty  that  this 
was  accomplished,  for  the  old  horse  had 
evidently  seen  a  vision  of  the  happy 
hunting-ground,  and  was  loath  to  return 
to  the  sordid  earth.  His  limbs  were  al 
ready  stiffening  in  death,  and  the  whites 
of  his  eyes  only  were  visible.  Mrs. 
Wiggs  noted  these  discouraging  symp 
toms,  and  saw  that  violent  measures 
were  necessary. 

"Gether  some  sticks  an'  build  a  fire 
quick  as  you  kin.  I  've  got  to  run  over 
home.  Build  it  right  up  clost  to  him, 
Billy;  we  've  got  to  git  him  het  up." 

She  rushed  into  the  kitchen,  and,  tak- 
4  49 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 

ing  several  cakes  of  tallow  from  the 
shelf,  threw  them  into  a  tin  bucket. 
Then  she  hesitated  for  a  moment.  The 
kettle  of  soup  was  steaming  away  on 
the  stove  ready  for  supper.  Mrs.  Wiggs 
did  not  believe  in  sacrificing  the  present 
need  to  the  future  comfort.  She  threw 
in  a  liberal  portion  of  pepper,  and,  seiz 
ing  the  kettle  in  one  hand  and  the  bucket 
of  tallow  in  the  other,  staggered  back  to 
the  bonfire. 

"Now,  Billy, "  she  commanded,  "put 
this  bucket  of  tallow  down  there  in  the 
hottest  part  of  the  fire.  Look  out ;  don't 
tip  it— there!  Now,  you  come  here  an' 
help  me  pour  this  soup  into  the  bottle. 
I  'm  goin'  to  git  that  ole  hoss  so  het 
up  he  '11  think  he  's  havin'  a  sunstroke! 
Seems  sorter  bad  to  keep  on  pestering 
him  when  he  's  so  near  gone,  but  this 
here  soup  '11  feel  good  when  it  once 
gits  inside  him." 

50 


The  Annexation  of  Cuby 

When  the  kettle  was  empty,  the  soup 
was  impartially  distributed  over  Mrs. 
Wiggs  and  the  patient,  but  a  goodly 
amount  had  "got  inside,"  and  already 
the  horse  was  losing  his  rigidity. 

Only  once  did  Billy  pause  in  his  work, 
and  that  was  to  ask : 

"Ma,  what  do  you  think  I  7d  better 
name  him?" 

Giving  names  was  one  of  Mrs. 
Wiggs 's  chief  accomplishments,  and 
usually  required  much  thoughtful  con 
sideration  ;  but  in  this  case  if  there  was 
to  be  a  christening  it  must  be  at  once. 

"I  'd  like  a  jography  name,"  sug 
gested  Billy,  feeling  that  nothing  was 
too  good  to  bestow  upon  his  treasure. 

Mrs.  Wiggs  stood  with  the  soup  drip 
ping  from  her  hands,  and  earnestly 
contemplated  the  horse.  Babies,  pigs, 
goats,  and  puppies  had  drawn  largely 
on  her  supply  of  late,  and  geography 
51 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


names  especially  were  scarce.  Sud 
denly  a  thought  struck  her. 

"I  '11  tell  you  what,  Billy!  We  '11 
call  him  Cuby!  It  's  a  town  I  heared 
'em  talkin'  'bout  at  the  grocery." 

By  this  time  the  tallow  was  melted, 
and  Mrs.  Wiggs  carried  it  over  by  the 
horse,  and  put  each  of  his  hoofs  into 
the  hot  liquid,  while  Billy  rubbed  the 
legs  with  all  the  strength  of  his  young 
arms. 

"That  's  right,"  she  said;  "now  you 
run  home  an'  git  that  piece  of  carpet 
by  my  bed,  an'  we  '11  kiver  him  up.  I 
am  goin'  to  git  them  fence  rails  over 
yonder  to  keep  the  fire  goin'." 

Through  the  long  night  they  worked 
with  their  patient,  and  when  the  first 
glow  of  morning  appeared  in  the  east,  a 
triumphant  procession  wended  its  way 
across  the  Cabbage  Patch.  First  came 
an  old  woman,  bearing  sundry  pails, 
52 


The  Annexation  of  Cuby 

kettles,  and  bottles;  next  came  a  very 
sleepy  little  boy,  leading  a  trembling- 
old  horse,  with  soup  all  over  its  head, 
tallow  on  its  feet,  and  a  strip  of  rag- 
carpet  tied  about  its  middle. 

And  thus  Cuba,  like  his  geographical 
namesake,  emerged  from  the  violent  or 
deal  of  reconstruction  with  a  mangled 
constitution,  internal  dissension,  a  de 
cided  preponderance  of  foreign  element, 
but  a  firm  and  abiding  trust  in  the  new 
power  with  which  his  fortunes  had  been 
irrevocably  cast. 


53 


CHAPTER   V 


A   KEMINISCENCE 

"  It  is  easy  enough  to  be  pleasant 

When  life  flows  along  like  a  song, 
But  the  man  worth  while  is  the  one  who  will  smile 
When  everything  goes  dead  wrong." 

HEN  Miss  Hazy  was 
awakened  early  that 
morning  by  a  resonant 
neigh  at  the  head  of  her 
bed,  she  mistook  it  for 
the  trump  of  doom.  Miss  Hazy's  cot 
tage,  as  has  been  said,  was  built  on  the 
bias  in  the  Wiggses'  side  yard,  and  the 
little  lean-to,  immediately  behind  Miss 
Hazy's  bedroom,  had  been  pressed  into 
service  as  Cuba's  temporary  abiding- 
place. 

54 


A  Reminiscence 

After  her  first  agonized  fright,  the 
old  woman  ventured  to  push  the  door 
open  a  crack  and  peep  out. 

"  Chris, "  she  said,  in  a  tense  whis 
per,  to  her  sleeping  nephew— "  Chris, 
what  on  airth  is  this  here  hitched  to 
our  shutter  1" 

Chris,  usually  deaf  to  all  calls  less 
emphatic  than  cold  water  and  a  broom 
stick,  raised  a  rumpled  head  from  the 
bed-clothes. 

"Where  at!"  he  asked. 

"Right  here!'7  said  Miss  Hazy,  still 
in  a  terrified  whisper,  and  holding  fast 
the  door,  as  if  the  specter  might  attempt 
an  entrance.  Chris  did  not  stop  to  ad 
just  his  wooden  leg,  but  hopped  over  to 
the  door,  and  cautiously  put  an  eye  to 
the  opening. 

"Why,  shucks,  't  ain't  nothin'  but  a 
hoss!"  he  said,  in  disgust,  having 
nerved  himself  for  nothing  less  than  a 
55 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


rhinoceros,  such  as  he  had  seen  in  the 
circus. 

"How  'd  he  git  there?"  demanded 
Miss  Hazy. 

Chris  was  not  prepared  to  say. 

All  through  breakfast  Miss  Hazy  was 
in  a  flutter  of  excitement.  She  had  once 
heard  of  a  baby  being  left  on  a  door 
step,  but  never  a  horse.  When  the  limit 
of  her  curiosity  was  about  reached,  she 
saw  Mrs.  Wiggs  coming  across  the  yard 
carrying  a  bucket.  She  hastened  to 
meet  her. 

6  i  Mornin ', ' '  called  Mrs.  Wiggs,  bright 
ly,  in  spite  of  her  night 's  vigil;  "ain't 
we  got  a  fine  hoss?" 

Miss  Hazy  put  the  ash-barrel  between 
herself  and  the  animal,  and  hazarded 
a  timid  inspection,  while  Mrs.  Wiggs 
made  explanations,  and  called  attention 
to  Cuba's  fine  points. 

"Can't  you  come  in  an'  take  a 
56 


A  Reminiscence 

warm?"  asked  Miss  Hazy,  as  she  con 
cluded. 

"Well,  I  b'lieve  I  will,"  said  Mrs. 
Wiggs.  "I  ain't  been  over  fer  quite  a 
spell.  The  childern  kin  clean  up,  bein' 
it  's  Saturday."  From  seven  to  nine 
in  the  morning  were  the  favorite  call 
ing-hours  in  the  Cabbage  Patch. 

Mrs.  Wiggs  chose  the  chair  which  had 
the  least  on  it,  and  leaned  back,  smiling 
affably  as  she  remarked:  "We  're  used 
to  hosses;  this  here  's  the  second  one 
we  Ve  had." 

"My!"  said  Miss  Hazy,  "you  muster 
been  well  to  do ! " 

"Yes,"  continued  Mrs.  Wiggs,  "we 
was— up  to  the  time  of  the  fire.  Did 
I  ever  tell  you  'bout  how  Jim  brought 
our  other  hoss  to  town!" 

Miss  Hazy  had  heard  the  story  a 
number  of  times,  but  she  knew  the  du 
ties  of  a  hostess. 

57 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


"It  was  this  a- way,"  went  on  Mrs. 
Wiggs,  drawing  her  chair  closer  to  the 
fire,  and  preparing  for  a  good,  long  talk. 
"You  see,  me  an'  the  childern  was  corn- 
in7  on  the  steam-car  train,  but  ther' 
was  n't  no  way  to  git  the  hoss  here, 
'ceptin'  fer  somebody  to  ride  him. 
Course  Jim  said  he  'd  do  it.  Poor  Jim, 
always  ready  to  do  the  hard  part!" 
She  paused  to  wipe  her  eyes  on  her 
apron,  and  Miss  Hazy  wept  in  sym 
pathy. 

"Never  min',  Miss  Wiggs;  don't  cry. 
Go  on  an'  tell  me  what  you  done  next." 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Wiggs,  swallow 
ing  the  lump  in  her  throat,  "Jim  said 
he  'd  go.  He  never  had  been  to  the  city, 
an'  he  was  jes'  a  little  shaver,  but  I 
knowed  I  could  trust  him." 

"I  don't  see  how  you  could  stand  to 
risk  it!"  exclaimed  Miss  Hazy. 

"Oh,  I  reckon  whatever  you  got  to 
58 


A  Reminiscence 

do,  you  kin  do.  I  did  n'  see  no  other 
way;  so  one  mornin'  I  put  a  old  fo'- 
patch  quilt  over  the  hoss,  tied  a  bucket 
of  oats  on  behin',  an'  fixed  some  vit- 
tles  fer  Jim,  an7  started  'em  off.  It 
was  a  forty-mile  ride  to  the  city,  so  I 
calkerlated  to  start  Jim  so  's  he  'd  git 
to  Dr.  White's  'bout  nightfall." 

"Dr.  White  was  your  old  doctor, 
was  n't  he?"  prompted  Miss  Hazy. 

"Yes'm,  he  used  to  'tend  Mr.  Wiggs 
before  we  moved  over  into  Bullitt 
County.  You  know  Mr.  Wiggs  was  a 
widow  man  when  I  married  him.  He 
had  head  trouble.  Looked  like  all  his 
inflictions  gethered  together  in  that 
head  of  hisn.  He  uster  go  into  reg'lar 
transoms ! ' ' 

Miss  Hazy  was  awe-struck,  but  more 
dreadful  revelations  were  to  follow. 

"I  guess  you  knew  I  killed  him," 
continued  Mrs.  Wiggs,  calmly.  "The 
59 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


doctor  an'  ever 'body  said  so.  He  was 
jes'  gitten  over  typhoid,  an'  I  give  him 
pork  an'  beans.  He  was  a  wonderful 
man!  Kept  his  senses  plumb  to  the 
end.  I  remember  his  very  las'  words. 
I  was  settin'  by  him,  waitin'  fer  the 
doctor  to  git  there,  an'  I  kep'  sayin', 
'Oh,  Mr.  Wiggs!  You  don't  think  you 
are  dyin',  do  you?'  an'  he  answered  up 
jes'  as  natural  an'  fretful-like,  'Good 
Ian',  Nancy!  How  do  I  know?  I  ain't 
never  died  before.'  An'  them  was  the 
very  las'  words  he  ever  spoke." 

"Was  he  a  church  member,  Miss 
Wiggs?"  inquired  Miss  Hazy. 

"Well,  no,  not  exactly,"  admitted 
Mrs.  Wiggs,  reluctantly.  "But  he  was 
what  you  might  say  a  well-wisher. 
But,  as  I  was  tellin'  you,  Dr.  White 
was  a  old  friend,  an'  I  pinned  a  note 
on  Jim's  coat  tellin'  who  he  was  an' 
where  he  was  goin',  an'  I  knowed  the 
60 


A  Reminiscence 

doctor  would  have  a  eye  on  him  when 
he  got  as  fur  as  Smithville.  As  fer  the 
rest  of  the  trip,  I  was  n't  so  certain. 
The  only  person  I  knowed  in  the  city 
was  Pete  Jenkins,  an'  if  there  was  one 
man  in  the  world  I  did  n't  have  no  use 
fer,  it  was  Pete.  But  when  I  don't  like 
folks  I  try  to  do  some  thin'  nice  fer  'em. 
Seems  like  that  's  the  only  way  I  kin 
weed  out  my  meanness.  So  I  jes'  sez 
to  Jim,  'You  keep  on  astin'  till  you  git 
to  No.  6  Injun  House,  an'  then  you  ast 
fer  Pete  Jenkins.  You  tell  him,'  sez 
I,  'you  are  Hiram  Wiggs's  boy,  an'  as 
long  as  he  done  so  much  harm  to  yer  pa, 
mebbe  he  'd  be  glad  to  do  a  good  turn 
by  you,  an'  keep  you  an'  the  hoss  fer 
the  night,  till  yer  ma  comes  fer  you.' 
Well,  Jim  started  off,  lookin'  mighty  lit 
tle  settin'  up  on  that  big  hoss,  an'  I 
waved  my  apron  long  as  I  could ;  then  I 
hid  behin'  a  tree  to  keep  him  from 
61 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


seein'  me  cry.  He  rode  all  that  day,  an' 
'bout  sundown  he  come  to  Dr.  White's. 
Pore  little  feller,  he  was  so  tired  an' 
stiff  he  could  n't  hardly  walk,  but  he 
tied  the  hoss  to  the  post  an'  went  'round 
to  the  back  door  an'  knocked  real  easy. 
Mrs.  White  come  to  the  door  an'  sez, 
real  cross,  'No,  doctor  ain't  here,'  an' 
slammed  it  shut  agin.  I  ain't  meanin' 
to  blame  her;  mebbe  her  bread  was  in 
the  oven,  or  her  baby  cryin',  or  some- 
thin',  but  seems  to  me  I  could  n't  have 
treated  a  dog  that  a- way! 

"Pore  Jim,  he  dragged  out  to  the 
road  agin,  an'  set  there  beside  the  hoss, 
not  knowin'  what  to  do  nex'.  Night 
was  a-comin'  on,  he  had  n't  had  no  sup 
per,  an'  he  was  dead  beat.  By  an'  by 
he  went  to  sleep,  an'  did  n't  know 
nothin'  till  somebody  shuck  his  shoul 
der  an'  sez,  'Git  up  from  here!  What 
you  doin'  sleepin'  here  in  the  road?' 
62 


A  Reminiscence 

Then  he  went  stumblin'  'long,  with 
somebody  holdin'  his  arm,  an'  he  was 
took  into  a  big,  bright  room,  an'  the 
doctor  was  lookin'  at  him  an'  astin'  him 
questions.  An'  Jim  said  he  never  did 
know  what  he  answered,  but  it  must  'a' 
been  right,  fer  the  doctor  grabbed  holt 
of  his  hand,  an'  sez:  i Bless  my  soul! 
It  's  little  Jimmy  Wiggs,  all  the  way 
from  Curryville ! ' 

"Then  they  give  him  his  supper,  an' 
Mrs.  White  sez:  ' Where  '11  he  sleep  at, 
Doctor?  There  ain't  no  spare  bed.' 
Then  Jim  sez  the  doctor  frowned  like 
ever  'thin ',  an '  sez :  <  Sleep  ?  Why,  he  '11 
sleep  in  the  bed  with  my  boys,  an'  they 
orter  be  proud  to  have  sech  a  plucky 
bedfeller!' 

"Jim  never  did  fergit  them  words; 
they  meant  a  good  deal  more  to  him 
than  his  supper. 

"Early  the  nex'  rnornin'  he  started 
63 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


out  agin,  the  doctor  pointin'  him  on  the 
way.  He  did  n't  git  into  the  city  till 
'long  'bout  four  o'clock,  an'  he  sez  he 
never  was  so  mixed  in  all  his  life.  All 
my  childern  was  green  about  town;  it 
made  ever'  one  of  'em  sick  when  they 
first  rode  on  the  street-cars,  an'  Euro- 
pena  was  skeered  to  death  of  the  news 
boys,  'cause  she  thought  they  called 
'Babies,'  'stid  of  'Papers.'  Jim  kep' 
right  on  the  main  road,  like  he  was  tole 
to,  but  things  kep'  a-happenin'  'round 
him  so  fast,  he  said  he  could  n't  do  no 
more  'n  jes'  keep  out  the  way.  All  of 
a  suddint  a  ice-wagon  come  rattlin'  up 
behin'  him.  It  was  runnin'  off,  an' 
'fore  he  knowed  it  a  man  hit  it  in  the 
head  an'  veered  it  'round  towards  him; 
Jim  said  his  hoss  turned  a  clean  somer 
set,  an'  he  was  th'owed  up  in  the  air, 
an'—" 

1 '  Ma ! ' '  called  a  shrill  voice  from  the 
64 


A  Reminiscence 

Wiggses'  porch,  "Australia  's  in  the 
rain-barrel ! ' ' 

Mrs.  Wiggs  looked  exasperated.  "I 
never  was  havin'  a  good  time  in  my  life 
that  one  of  my  childern  did  n't  git  in 
that  rain-barrel ! ' ' 

"Well,  go  on  an'  finish,"  said  Miss 
Hazy,  to  whom  the  story  had  lost  noth 
ing  by  repetition. 

"Ther'  ain't  much  more,"  said  Mrs. 
Wiggs,  picking  up  her  bucket.  "Our 
hoss  had  two  legs  an'  his  neck  broke, 
but  Jim  never  had  a  scratch.  A  police 
man  took  him  to  No.  6  Injun  House,  an' 
Pete  Jenkins  jes'  treated  him  like  he  'd 
been  his  own  son.  I  was  done  cured 
then  an'  there  fer  my  feelin'  aginst 
Pete." 

"Ma!"  again  came  the  warning  cry 
across  the  yard. 

"All  right,  I  'm  comin'!  Good-by, 
Miss  Hazy ;  you  have  a  eye  to  Cuby  till 
5  65 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


we  git  our  shed  ready.     He  ain't  as 
sperited  as  he  looks. ' ' 

And,  with  a  cordial  hand-shake,  Mrs. 
Wiggs  went  cheerfully  away  to  admin 
ister  chastisement  to  her  erring  off 
spring. 


66 


CHAPTER  VI 


A  THEATER   PARTY 
"  The  play,  the  play  's  the  thing !  » 

ILLY 'S  foreign  policy 
proved  most  satisfac 
tory,  and  after  the  an 
nexation  of  Cuba  many 
additional  dimes  found 
their  way  into  the  tin  box  on  top  of  the 
wardrobe.  But  it  took  them  all,  besides 
Mrs.  Wiggs  's  earnings,  to  keep  the  fam 
ily  from  the  awful  calamity  of  "pulling 
agin  a  debt. ' ' 

One  cold  December  day  Billy  came  in 
and  found  his  mother  leaning  wearily 
on  the  table.  Her  face  brightened  as 
he  entered,  but  he  caught  the  tired  look 
in  her  eyes. 

67 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 

"What  's  the  matter !"  he  asked. 

"Ain't  nothin'  the  matter,  Billy, " 
she  said,  trying  to  speak  cheerfully; 
"I  'm  jes'  wore  out,  that  's  all.  It  '11 
be  with  me  like  it  was  with  Uncle  Ned's 
ole  ox,  I  reckon;  he  kep'  a-goin'  an' 
a-goin'  till  he  died  a-standin'  up,  an' 
even  then  they  had  to  push  him  over." 

She  walked  to  the  window,  and  stood 
gazing  absently  across  the  commons. 
"Do  you  know,  Billy,"  she  said  sud 
denly,  "I  've  got  the  craziest  notion  in 
my  head.  I  'd  jes'  give  any  thin'  to 
see  the  show  at  the  Opery  House  this 
week. ' ' 

If  she  had  expressed  a  wish  for  a  dia 
mond  necklace,  Billy  could  not  have 
been  more  amazed,  and  his  counte 
nance  expressed  his  state  of  mind.  Mrs. 
Wiggs  hastened  to  explain: 

"Course,  I  ain't  really  thinkin'  'bout 
goin',  but  them  show-bills  started  nie  to 
68 


A  Theater  Party 

studyin'  'bout  it,  an'  I  got  to  wishin' 
me  an7  you  could  go." 

"I  don't  'spect  it  's  much  when  you 
git  inside,"  said  Billy,  trying  the  ef 
fects  of  negative  consolation. 

"Yes,  't  is,  Billy  Wiggs,"  answered 
his  mother,  impressively.  "You  ain't 
never  been  inside  a  theayter,  an'  I  have. 
I  was  there  twict,  an'  it  was  grand! 
You  orter  see  the  lights  an'  fixin's,  an' 
all  the  fine  ladies  an'  their  beaux.  First 
time  I  went  they  was  a  man  in  skin- 
tights  a-walkin'  on  a  rope  h'isted  'way 
up  over  ever 'body's  head." 

"What  's  skin-tights!"  asked  Billy, 
thrilled  in  spite  of  himself. 

"It  's  spangles  'round  yer  waist,  an' 
shoes  without  no  heels  to  'em.  You  see, 
the  man  could  n't  wear  many  clothes, 
'cause  it  would  make  him  too  heavy  to 
stay  up  there  in  the  air.  The  band 
plays  all  the  time,  an'  folks  sing  an' 
69 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


speechify,  an'  ever 'body  laughs  an'  has 
a  good  time.  It  's  jes'  grand,  I  tell 
you!" 

Billy's  brows  were  puckered,  and  he 
sat  unusually  quiet  for  a  while,  looking 
at  his  mother.  Finally  he  said:  "You 
might  take  my  snow-money  from  las' 
week. ' ' 

Mrs.  Wiggs  was  indignant.  "Why, 
Billy  Wiggs!"  she  exclaimed,  "do  you 
think  I  'd  take  an'  go  to  a  show,  when 
Asia  an '  Australia  ain  't  got  a  good  shoe 
to  their  backs?" 

Billy  said  no  more  about  the  theater, 
but  that  afternoon,  when  he  was  out 
with  the  kindling,  he  pondered  the  mat 
ter  deeply.  It  was  quite  cold,  and  some 
times  he  had  to  put  the  reins  between 
his  knees  and  shove  his  hands  deep  into 
his  pockets  to  get  the  stiffness  out  of 
them.  It  really  seemed  as  if  everybody 
had  just  laid  in  a  supply  of  kindling, 
70 


A  Theater  Party 

and  the  shadowy  little  plan  he  had  been 
forming  was  growing  more  shadowy  all 
the  time. 

"I  'spect  the  tickets  cost  a  heap,"  he 
thought  ruefully,  as  he  drew  himself  up 
into  a  regular  pretzel  of  a  boy;  "but, 
then,  she  never  does  have  no  fun,  an' 
never  gits  a  thing  fer  herself."  And 
because  Billy  knew  of  his  mother's 
many  sacrifices,  and  because  he  found 
it  very  hard  to  take  Jim 's  place,  a  lump 
lodged  in  his  throat,  and  gave  him  so 
much  trouble  that  he  forgot  for  a  while 
how  cold  he  was. 

About  this  time  he  came  within  sight 
of  the  Opera  House,  and  tantalizing 
posters  appeared  of  the  "Greatest  Ex 
travaganza  of  the  Century. ' '  He  pulled 
Cuba  into  a  walk,  and  sat  there  absorb 
ing  the  wonders  depicted;  among  the 
marvels  were  crowds  of  children  dressed 
as  butterflies,  beautiful  ladies  march- 
71 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


ing  in  line,  a  man  balancing  a  barrel 
on  his  feet,  and— yes,  there  was  the 
man  in  "  skin- tights "  walking  on  the 
rope! 

A  keen  puff  of  wind  brought  Billy 
back  to  his  senses,  and  as  his  longing 
eyes  turned  from  the  gorgeous  show 
bills  they  encountered  the  amused  look 
of  a  gentleman  who  had  just  come  out 
from  the  Opera  House.  He  was  so  tall 
and  fine-looking  that  Billy  thought  he 
must  own  the  show. 

"Some  kindlin',  sir?" 

The  gentleman  shook  his  head.  The 
posters  still  danced  before  Billy's  eyes; 
if  his  mother  could  only  see  the  show! 
The  last  chance  seemed  slipping  away. 
Suddenly  a  bold  idea  presented  itself. 
He  got  out  of  the  wagon,  and  came  up 
on  the  step. 

"Could  n't  you  use  a  whole  load,  if 
I  was  to  take  it  out  in  tickets?" 
72 


A  Theater  Party 

The  man  looked  puzzled.  "Take  it 
out  in  tickets  ?"  he  repeated. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Billy,  "theayter  tick 
ets.  Don't  you  own  the  show!" 

The  gentleman  laughed.  "Well, 
hardly,"  he  said.  "What  do  you  want 
with  more  than  one  ticket?" 

There  was  a  certain  sympathy  in  his 
voice,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  was 
still  laughing,  and  before  Billy  knew  it 
he  had  told  him  all  about  it. 

"How  many  tickets  could  yer  gim 
me  fer  the  load?"  he  asked,  in  con 
clusion. 

The  gentleman  made  a  hurried  calcu 
lation.  "You  say  you  have  three  sis 
ters?"  he  asked. 

"Yep,"  said  Billy. 

"Well,  I  should  say  that  load  was 
worth  about  five  tickets." 

"Gee  whiz!"  cried  the  boy;  "that 
'lid  take  us  all!" 

73 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


He  followed  the  gentleman  back  to 
the  ticket-office,  and  eagerly  watched  the 
man  behind  the  little  window  count  out 
five  tickets  and  put  them  in  a  pink  en 
velope. 

"One  for  you,  one  for  your  mother, 
and  three  for  the  kids, ' '  said  his  friend, 
as  Billy  buttoned  the  treasure  in  the  in 
side  pocket  of  his  ragged  coat. 

He  was  so  excited  that  he  almost  for 
got  his  part  of  the  bargain,  but  as  the 
gentleman  was  turning  away  he  remem 
bered. 

"Say,  mister,  where  must  I  take  the 
kindlin'  to?" 

"Oh,  that  's  all  right;  you  can  sell 
it  to-morrow,"  answered  the  other. 

Billy's  face  fell  instantly.  "If  you 
don't  take  the  kindlin',  I  '11  have  to 
give  you  back  the  tickets.  Ma  don't 
'low  us  to  take  nothin'  that  way." 

"But  I  don't  need  the  kindling;  I 
have  n't  any  place  to  put  it." 
74 


A  Theater  Party 

il Ain't  you  got  no  home!"  asked 
Billy,  incredulously. 

"No,"  answered  the  man,  shortly. 

The  idea  of  any  one,  in  any  walk  of 
life,  not  having  use  for  kindling  was 
a  new  one  to  Billy.  But  he  had  no  time 
to  dwell  on  it,  for  this  new  complica 
tion  demanded  all  his  attention. 

"Ain't  there  nobody  you  could  give 
it  to?"  he  asked. 

The  gentleman  was  growing  impa 
tient.  "No,  no;  go  along;  that  's  all 
right." 

But  Billy  knew  it  would  not  be  all 
right  when  he  got  home,  so  he  made  one 
more  effort.  ' '  How  'd  you  like  to  send 
it  out  to  Miss  Hazy?"  he  inquired. 

"Well,  Miss  Hazy,  not  having  the 
pleasure  of  my  acquaintance,  might  ob 
ject  to  the  delicate  attention.  Who  is 
she?" 

"She  's  Chris's  aunt;  they  ain't  had 
no  fire  fer  two  days." 
75 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 

"Oh!"  said  the  man,  heartily,  "take 
it  to  Miss  Hazy,  by  all  means.  Tell  her 
it  's  from  Mr.  Bob,  who  is  worse  off 
than  she  is,  for  he  has  n  't  even  a  home. ' ' 

An  hour  later  there  was  wild  excite 
ment  under  the  only  tin  roof  in  the 
Cabbage  Patch.  Such  scrubbing  and 
brushing  as  was  taking  place! 

"It  's  jes'  like  a  peetrified  air-cas 
tle,'7  said  Mrs.  Wiggs,  as  she  pressed 
out  Asia's  best  dress;  "here  I  been 
thinkin'  'bout  it,  an'  wan  tin'  to  go,  an' 
here  I  am  actually  gittin'  ready  to  go! 
Come  here,  child,  and  let  me  iron  out 
yer  plaits  while  the  iron  's  good  an' 
hot." 

This  painful  operation  was  performed 
only  on  state  occasions;  each  little 
Wiggs  laid  her  head  on  the  ironing- 
board,  a  willing  sacrifice  on  the  altar 
of  vanity,  while  Mrs.  Wiggs  carefully 
ironed  out  five  plaits  on  each  head. 
76 


A  Theater  Party 

Europena  was  the  only  one  who  ob 
jected  to  being  a  burnt-offering,  but 
when  she  saw  the  frizzled  locks  of  the 
others,  her  pride  conquered  her  fear, 
and,  holding  tight  to  Billy's  hand,  she 
bent  her  chubby  head  to  the  trying 
ordeal. 

"Now,  Billy,  you  run  over  to  Mrs. 
Eichorn's  an'  ast  her  to  loan  me  her 
black  crepe  veil.  Mrs.  Krasmier  bor 
rowed  it  yesterday  to  wear  to  her  pa's 
funeral,  but  I  guess  she  's  sent  it  back 
by  this  time.  An',  Billy— Billy,  wait 
a  minute ;  you  be  sure  to  tell  'em  we  are 
goin'  to  the  show."  Mrs.  Wiggs  vigor 
ously  brushed  her  hair  with  the  clothes- 
brush  as  she  spoke.  Australia  had 
thrown  the  hair-brush  down  the  cistern 
the  summer  before. 

"Asia,  you  go  git  the  alpaca  from  be 
hind  the  chest,  an'  sorter  shake  it  out 
on  the  bed." 

77 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


'  '  Who  's  goin '  to  wear  it,  ma  f  "  The 
question  came  in  anxious  tones,  for  the 
blue  alpaca  had  been  sent  them  in  a  bun 
dle  of  old  clothes,  and  though  it  failed 
to  fit  either  of  the  girls,  the  wearing  of 
it  was  a  much  coveted  privilege. 

1  i  Well,  now,  I  don't  know,"  said  Mrs. 
Wiggs,  critically  surveying  the  chil 
dren;  "it  won't  button  good  on  you, 
and  swags  in  the  back  on  Australia." 

"Lemme  wear  it,  ma!" 

' '  No,  lemme ! ' '  came  in  excited  tones. 

Mrs.  Wiggs  had  seen  trouble  before 
over  the  blue  alpaca;  she  knew  what 
anguish  her  decision  must  bring  to  one 
or  the  other. 

"It  really  looks  best  on  Asia,"  she 
thought;  "but  if  I  let  her  wear  it  Aus- 
try  '11  have  a  cryin'  spell  an'  git  to 
holdin'  her  breath,  an'  that  '11  take  up 
so  much  time."  So  she  added  aloud: 
"I  '11  tell  you  what  we  '11  do.  Asia, 
78 


A  Theater  Party 

you  kin  wear  the  skirt,  an'  Austry  kin 
wear  the  waist." 

But  when  she  had  pinned  the  skirt 
over  one  little  girl's  red  calico  dress, 
and  buttoned  the  blue  waist  over  the 
clean  apron  of  the  other,  she  looked  at 
them  dubiously.  ' '  They  do  look  kinder 
mixed, "  she  admitted  to  herself,  "but 
I  reckon  it  don't  matter,  so  long  as 
they  're  both  happy." 

Just  here  Billy  came  in,  with  the  veil 
in  one  hand  and  a  bunch  of  faded  car 
nations  in  the  other. 

"Look,  ma!"  he  exclaimed,  holding 
up  his  trophy,  "I  swapped  'em  with 
Pete  fer  a  top  an'  a  agate.  He  got  'em 
outen  a  ash-barrel  over  on  the  avenue. ' ' 

"Well,  now,  ain't  that  nice?"  said 
Mrs.  Wiggs;  "I  '11  jes'  clip  the  stems 
an'  put  'em  in  a  bottle  of  water,  an' 
they  '11  pick  up  right  smart  by  the  time 
we  go.  I  wisht  you  had  something  to 
79 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 

fix  up  in,  Billy, "  she  added;  "you  look 
as  seedy  as  a  raspberry. " 

Billy  did  look  rather  shabby;  his  el 
bows  were  out,  and  two  of  the  holes  in 
his  pants  were  patched  and  two  were 
not.  Mrs.  Wiggs  was  rummaging  in 
the  table  drawer. 

"I  wisht  I  could  find  some  thin '  of  yer 
pa's  that  would  do.  Here  's  his  white 
gloves  he  wore  that  time  he  was  pall 
bearer  to  ole  Mr.  Bender.  Seems  to  me 
they  do  wear  white  gloves  to  the  theay- 
ter,  but  I  disremember. ' ' 

"Naw!  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  wear  no 
gloves, "  said  Billy,  firmly. 

Mrs.  Wiggs  continued  her  search. 
"Here  's  yer  grandpa's  watch- fob,  but 
I  'm  skeered  fer  you  to  wear  it,  you 
might  lose  it.  It  's  a  family  remnant- 
been  handed  down  two  generations. 
What  about  this  here  red  comforter! 
It  would  sorter  spruce  you  up,  an'  keep 
80 


A  Theater  Party 

you  warm,  besides;  you  know  you  Ve 
had  a  cold  fer  a  week,  an'  yer  pipes  is 
all  stopped  up."  So  it  was  decided, 
and  Billy  wore  the  comforter. 

At  seven  o'clock  they  were  ready, 
and,  the  news  having  spread  abroad 
that  the  Wiggses  were  going  to  a  show, 
many  of  the  neighbors  came  in  to  see 
how  they  looked  and  to  hear  how  it  hap 
pened. 

"Some  of  you  all  shake  down  the 
stove  an'  pull  the  door  to  fer  me.  I 
am  jes'  that  skeered  of  hurtin'  Mrs. 
Eichorn's  veil  I  'm  'fraid  to  turn  my 
head,"  Mrs.  Wiggs  said  nervously,  as 
she  stepped  off  the  porch. 

The  little  procession  had  left  the  rail 
road  tracks  far  behind,  when  Mrs. 
Wiggs  stopped  suddenly. 

"Fer  the  land's  sakes  alive!  Do  you 
know  what  we  Ve  gone  an'  done!  We 
have  left  the  theayter  tickets  to  home!" 
e  81 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 

At  this  Australia  began  to  cry,  and  a 
gloom  settled  upon  the  party. 

' '  Billy,  you  run  back,  fast  as  yer  legs 
kin  carry  you,  an'  look  in  that  tin  can 
behind  the  clock,  an'  we  '11  wait  right 
here  fer  you."  Mrs.  Wiggs  wrapped 
Europena  in  her  shawl,  and  tried  to 
keep  up  the  spirits  of  the  party  as  they 
huddled  on  the  curbing  to  await  Billy's 
return. 

"Look  how  pretty  it  looks,  all  the 
lights  a-streamin'  out  the  winders  on 
the  snow.  Looks  like  a  chromo  ma  used 
to  have." 

But  the  young  Wiggses  were  in  no 
frame  of  mind  to  appreciate  the  pictur- 
esqueness  of  the  scene. 

It  was  very  cold,  and  even  the  pros 
pect  of  the  show  was  dimmed  by  the 
present  discomfort.  By  and  by  Austra 
lia's  sobs  began  anew. 

"What  's  the  matter,  honey?  Don't 
82 


A  Theater  Party 

cry;  Billy  '11  be  back  in  a  little  while, 
an'  then  we  '11  git  in  where  it  's  good 
an'  warm." 

"I  want  my  supper!"  wailed  Aus 
tralia. 

Then  it  dawned  on  Mrs.  Wiggs  for 
the  first  time  that,  in  the  excitement  of 
preparation,  supper  had  been  entirely 
overlooked. 

"Well,  if  that  don't  beat  all!"  said 
she.  "I  had  jes'  'bout  as  much  idea 
of  supper  as  a  goat  has  of  kid  gloves !" 
But  when  Billy  came  flying  back  with 
the  tickets,  and  the  party  had  started 
once  more  on  the  long  walk  to  the  Opera 
House,  the  enticing  posters  began  to  ap 
pear,  and  supper  and  the  cold  were  for 
gotten. 


83 


CHAPTER  VII 


"  If  his  heart  at  high  floods 

Swamped  his  brain  now  and  then, 
7T  was  but  richer  for  that 
When  the  tide  ebbed  again." 

LARGE  audience  as 
sembled  that  night  to 
witness  "The  Greatest 
Extravaganza  of  the 
Century. "  The  Opera 
House  was  a  blaze  of  light  and  color. 

From  the  recesses  of  one  of  the  boxes, 
Redding  made  a  careful  survey  of  the 
faces  beneath  him.  First  nights  usu 
ally  found  him  there,  with  the  same 
restless,  eager  look  in  his  eyes.  To 
night  he  evidently  failed  to  find  what 
he  sought,  and  was  turning  listlessly 
84 


"Mr.  Bob" 


away  when  he  stopped  suddenly,  bent 
forward,  then  smiled  broadly.  He  had 
caught  sight  of  Billy's  red  comforter. 

The  boy's  hair  was  plastered  close  to 
his  head,  and  his  face  was  transformed 
by  soap  and  happiness.  Redding 
glanced  quizzically  at  the  rest  of  the 
party— at  the  mother's  radiant  counte 
nance  beaming  from  the  dusk  of  her 
crepe  veil,  at  the  three  little  girls  in 
their  composite  costumes,  at  the  carna 
tions  pinned  on  each  bosom.  Then  he 
deliberately  turned  his  back  on  "The 
Greatest  Extravaganza  of  the  Cen 
tury,"  and  centered  his  attention  on  the 
parquet  group. 

It  was  a  singularly  enthusiastic  thea 
ter  party,  oblivious  of  surroundings, 
and  lost  in  wonder  at  the  strange  sights. 
Billy's  laugh  rang  out  frequently,  with 
refreshing  spontaneity.  Their  enjoy 
ment  was  so  evident  that  Redding  was 
85 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


surprised,  at  the  close  of  the  first  act, 
to  see  them  put  on  their  wraps  and 
march  solemnly  out  of  the  theater.  He 
hastened  to  the  lobby,  and  touched  Billy 
on  the  shoulder. 

"Did  n't  you  like  the  show?"  he 
asked. 

"You  bet!"  said  Billy,  his  eyes  shin 
ing  and  his  cheeks  flushed. 

Mrs.  Wiggs  was  hopelessly  entangled 
in  the  crepe  veil,  but  her  ideas  of  eti 
quette  were  rigid.  She  disengaged  one 
hand  and  said,  with  dignity:  "I  'low 
this  is  Mr.  Bob,  Billy's  friend.  Happy 
to  meet  yer  acquaintance.  Asia,  speak 
to  the  gentleman— Australia— Euro- 
pena ! ' '  with  a  commanding  nod  at  each. 

Three  small  hands  were  thrust  at 
Eedding  simultaneously,  and  he  accom 
modated  them  all  in  his  broad  palm. 

"But  why  are  you  going  home?"  he 
asked,  looking  from  one  to  the  other. 
86 


"Mr.  Bob" 


" Where  else  would  we  go  to?"  asked 
Mrs.  Wiggs,  in  amazement. 

"Why  not  stay  and  see  the  play  out? 
That  was  only  the  first  act." 

"Is  there  some  more,  ma?"  asked 
Asia,  eagerly. 

"Why,  of  course,"  explained  Red 
ding,  "lots  more.  Now,  go  back,  and 
stay  until  everybody  has  left  the  theater, 
and  then  you  will  be  certain  it  ?s  over. ' ' 

So  back  they  went,  furnishing  an 
amusing  entr'acte  for  the  impatient  au 
dience. 

After  the  curtain  descended  on  the 
final  tableau,  Redding  waited  in  the 
lobby  while  the  stream  of  people  passed. 
The  Wiggses  had  obeyed  instructions, 
and  were  the  very  last  to  come  out. 
They  seemed  dazed  by  their  recent 
glimpse  into  fairy-land.  Something  in 
their  thin  bodies  and  pinched  faces 
made  Redding  form  a  sudden  resolve. 
87 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


"Billy,"  lie  said  gravely,  "can't  you 
and  your  family  take  supper  with  me  ? " 

Billy  and  his  mother  exchanged  doubt 
ful  glances;  for  the  past  three  hours 
everything  had  been  so  strange  and  un 
usual  that  they  were  bewildered. 

"You  see,  we  will  go  right  over  to 
Bond's  and  have  something  to  eat  be 
fore  you  go  home,"  urged  Redding. 

Mrs.  Wiggs  was  in  great  doubt,  but 
one  of  the  little  girls  pulled  her  skirt 
and  said,  in  pleading  tones:  "Ma,  let  's 
do!"  and  Billy  was  already  casting 
longing  eyes  at  the  big  restaurant  across 
the  way.  She  had  not  the  heart  to  re 
fuse.  As  they  were  crossing  the  street, 
Asia  stopped  suddenly  and  cried : 

"Ma,  there  's  the  *  Christmas  Lady' 
gittin'  in  that  hack!  She  seen  us! 
Look!" 

But  before  they  could  turn  the  car 
riage  door  had  slammed. 
88 


"Mr.  Bob" 


Bedding  took  them  into  a  small  apart 
ment,  curtained  off  from  the  rest  of  the 
cafe,  so  that  only  the  waiters  commented 
on  the  strange  party.  At  first  there  was 
oppressive  silence ;  then  the  host  turned 
to  Europena  and  asked  her  what  she 
liked  best  to  eat.  A  moment  of  torture 
ensued  for  the  small  lady,  during  which 
she  nearly  twisted  her  thumb  from  its 
socket,  then  she  managed  to  gasp : 

" Green  pups!" 

Mr.  Bob  laughed.  "Why,  you  little 
cannibal!"  he  said.  "What  on  earth 
does  she  mean?" 

"Cream  puffs,"  explained  Mrs. 
Wiggs,  airily.  ' '  She  et  'ern  onct  at  Mrs. 
Reed's,  the  Bourbon  Stock  Yard's  wife, 
an'  she  's  been  talkin'  'bout  'em  ever 
sence. ' ' 

After  this  the  ice,  while  not  broken, 
at  least  had  a  crack  in  it,  and  by  the 
time  the  first  course  was  served  Bed- 
89 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


ding  was  telling  them  a  funny  story, 
and  three  of  the  audience  were  able  to 
smile.  It  had  pleased  him  to  order  an 
elaborate  supper,  and  he  experienced 
the  keenest  enjoyment  over  the  novelty 
of  the  situation.  The  Wiggses  ate  as 
he  had  never  seen  people  eat  before. 
"For  speed  and  durability  they  break 
the  record, "  was  his  mental  comment, 
lie  sat  by  and,  with  consummate  tact, 
made  them  forget  everything  but  the 
good  time  they  were  having. 

As  the  supper  progressed,  Mrs. 
Wiggs  became  communicative.  She 
still  wore  her  black  cotton  gloves,  and 
gesticulated  with  a  chicken  croquette  as 
she  talked. 

"Yes,"  she  was  saying,  "Jim  was 
one  of  these  handy  childern;  when  he 
was  eight  years  old  he  could  peddle  as 
good  as  you  could !  I  guess  you  heard 
'bout  our  roof;  everybody  was  talkin' 
90 


"Mr.  Bob" 


'bout  it.  Billy  is  takin'  right  after 
him;  do  you  know  what  that  boy  has 
gone  an'  done?  He  's  built  his  pa  a 
monumint ! ' ' 

"A  monument ! ' '  exclaimed  Redding. 

"Yes,  sir,  a  tombs  tun  monumint!  I 
was  allers  a-wishin'  that  Mr.  Wiggs 
could  have  a  monumint,  and  Billy  never 
said  a  word,  but  he  set  his  head  to  it. 
One  day  he  come  home  with  a  lot  of 
these  here  tiles  what  they  had  throwed 
out  from  the  tile  factory;  some  of  'em 
was  jes'  a  little  nicked,  an'  the  others 
was  jes'  as  good  as  new.  Well,  he  kep' 
on  gittin'  'em  ever'  day  or  two,  till  he 
had  a  consider 'ble  pile.  Ever'  night 
he  used  to  set  on  the  floor  an'  fool  with 
them  things,  a-fittin'  'em  here  an'  crack- 
in'  'em  off  there,  but  I  never  paid  no 
'tention  to  him.  One  night,  when  I 
come  in  from  Mrs.  Eichorn's,  what  did 
I  see  on  the  floor  but  a  sure-'nough 
91 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 

tombstun-slab,  an'  spelt  out  in  little 
blue  tiles  down  the  middle  was: 

"  'Pa.    Gone,  but  not  forgotten.7 

I  was  jes'  that  pleased  I  set  down  an' 
bust  out  cryin'.  We  made  a  sorter  box 
to  hold  it,  an'  chinked  it  up  with  cement, 
an'  las'  Sunday  me  an'  the  childern 
took  it  out  an'  fixed  it  up  on  Mr. 
Wiggs 's  grave.  Some  day  we  are  going 
to  make  Jimmy  one ;  you  know  Jimmy's 
my  boy  that  's  dead."  Her  eyes  filled 
and  her  lips  trembled ;  even  the  sunshine 
of  her  buoyant  nature  could  not  dispel 
one  shadow  that  always  lay  across  her 
heart. 

At  this  moment  Billy,  doubtless 
thrilled  at  being  the  topic  of  conversa 
tion,  upset  his  glass  of  water,  and  the 
deluge  descended  full  upon  Australia, 
drenching  the  waist  of  the  blue  alpaca. 
92 


Mr.  Bob" 


Such  a  wail  as  arose !  Threats  and  per 
suasion  were  alike  unavailing ;  she  even 
refused  to  be  mopped  off,  but  slid  in  a 
disconsolate  heap  under  the  table.  Bed 
ding  attempted  to  invade  the  citadel 
with  an  orange  as  a  flag  of  truce,  but 
his  overtures  were  ineffectual,  and  he 
was  compelled  to  retreat  under  fire. 

"I  'd  leave  her  be,  Mr.  Bob,"  ad 
vised  Mrs.  Wiggs,  placidly,  as  she 
spread  her  salad  on  a  piece  of  bread. 
"She  '11  git  to  holdin'  her  breath  if  you 
notice  her." 

The  shrieks  gradually  diminished  to 
spasmodic  sobs,  which  in  turn  gave 
place  to  ominous  silence. 

"Billy,"  said  Kedding,  taking  Mrs. 
Wiggs's  advice  and  ignoring  the  flood 
sufferer,  ' '  how  would  you  like  to  be  my 
office-boy?" 

"  I  'd  like  it  a  heap, ' '  answered  Billy, 
promptly. 

93 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


Redding  turned  to  Mrs.  Wiggs.  ' '  You 
see,  it  's  a  newspaper  office,  and  while 
the  pay  is  n't  much  at  first,  still  it  's 
better  than  peddling  kindling,  and  there 
would  be  a  chance  for  promotion  as  he 
got  older. " 

"Oh,  yes,"  answered  Mrs.  Wiggs, 
complacently;  "there  would  n't  be  no 
trouble  'bout  Billy  promotin'.  I  'spect 
he  could  take  to  writin'  newspapers 
right  away,  if  you  could  hold  him  down 
to  it.  He  's  jes'  like  his  pa— the  very 
spittin'  image  of  him!  Mr.  Wiggs  was 
so  educated— the  most  fluent  man  in 
jography  I  ever  seen!" 

"I  'm  goin'  to  be  like  Mr.  Bob  when 
I  grow  up,"  said  Billy,  stoutly.  His 
recollection  of  his  paternal  parent  was 
not  the  sort  ideals  are  made  of. 

Just  here  the  waiter  appeared  with  the 
final  course,  and  Asia  lifted  the  table 
cloth  and  whispered,  "Say,  'Straly, 
94 


"Mr.  Bob" 


we  've  got  ice-cream."  No  answer. 
Then  little  Europena,  with  baby  wis 
dom,  put  her  tow  head  under  the  cloth, 
and  said,  "  'Traly,  it  's  pink!"  and  Aus 
tralia  emerged,  tear-stained  but  smiling, 
and  finished  her  supper  on  Mr.  Bob's 
knee. 

When  the  limit  of  capacity  had  been 
tested  to  the  fullest,  and  Billy  had  de 
clared  that  "he  could  n't  swaller  no 
more,  he  was  jes'  chawin',"  Redding 
filled  their  pockets  with  candy  and, 
when  Mrs.  Wiggs  was  not  looking,  put 
a  quarter  in  each  hand.  Then  he  rang 
for  a  carriage,  and,  in  spite  of  Mrs. 
Wiggs 's  protestations,  he  put  them 
in,  and  repeated  Billy's  directions  as 
to  the  exact  location  of  the  Cabbage 
Patch. 

"My,  my,  ain't  this  nice!"  said  Mrs. 
Wiggs,  leaning  back  against  carriage 
cushions  for  the  first  time  in  her  life, 
95 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  tine  Cabbage  Patch 


while  Redding  lifted  Europena  in  be 
side  her. 

<  <  \ye  >Ve  seed  a  good  time  f er  onct  in 
our  lives,"  said  Asia.  It  was  the  first 
time  she  had  spoken  since  they  left  the 
theater. 

"Lemme  ride  up  on  top,  ma!"  de 
manded  Billy,  eagerly. 

"Lemnie,  too,  lemme!"  came  from 
the  sleepy  Australia,  who  did  not  know 
what  new  attraction  was  being  offered, 
but  was  resolved  not  to  miss  anything. 

"All  right,  Billy;  but,  Austry,  you 
must  stay  with  ma.  Good-by,  Mr.  Bob, 
and  thanks— thanks  fer  one  an'  all!" 

Redding  stood  on  the  corner  where 
they  had  left  him,  and  the  smile  died 
out  of  his  face.  Within  a  block  was 
a  jolly  crowd  and  a  hearty  welcome; 
across  the  street  was  the  big  apartment 
house  where  his  dark  and  cheerless  win 
dow  promised  him  nothing.  For  a  mo- 
96 


"Mr.  Bob" 


ment  lie  stood  irresolute.  "There  is 
certainly  nobody  to  care  where  I  go," 
he  thought  gloomily ;  then  suddenly  the 
smile  came  back.  "But  if  I  'm  to  be 
Billy  Wiggs's  model,  I  guess  I  'd  better 
go  to  bed."  He  ran  lightly  across  the 
street,  and  up  the  broad  stone  steps. 


97 


CHAPTER  VIII 


MRS.    WIGGS   AT   HOME 

"She  had  a  sunny  nature  that  sought,  like 
a  flower  in  a  dark  place,  for  the  light." 

N  Christmas  day  Lucy 
Olcott  stood  by  the  li 
brary  window,  and  idly 
scratched  initials  on  the 
frosty  pane.  A  table 
full  of  beautiful  gifts  stood  near,  and  a 
great  bunch  of  long-stemmed  roses  on 
the  piano  filled  the  room  with  fragrance. 
But  Lucy  evidently  found  something 
more  congenial  in  the  dreary  view  out 
side.  She  was  deep  in  thought  when 
the  door  opened  and  Aunt  Chloe  came 
in  with  a  basket  and  a  note. 

The  old  darky  grinned  as  she  put  the 
98 


Mrs.  Wiggs  at  Home 

basket  on  the  floor.     "You  might   V 
knowed  it  wuz  fum  dem  Wiggses,"  she 
said. 
Lucy  opened  the  note  and  read: 

"Dear  miss  Lucy  the  basket  of  cloths  and  vittles 
come.  We  or  so  mutch  obliged,  and  asia  wore  the 
read  dress  to  the  soshul  and  enjoyed  her  selph  so. 
Much  I  wish  you  could  a  went.  Billy  liked  his  hock 
and  ladar  and  romcandons.  Me  and  the  childern  want 
to  send  you  a  crismas  mess  of  some  of  all  we  lade  in 
for  to  live  on.  They  is  pertaters  2  kines,  onions,  ter- 
maters,  a  jar  vineger  and  a  jar  perservs.  I  boughten 
the  peeches  last  sumer,  they  was  gitting  a  little  rot 
ting  so  I  got  them  cheep.  Hope  you  will  Enjoy  them. 
I  send  some  of  all  we  got  but  Cole  and  Flower. 
Thankes  thankes  to  you  for  your  kind  fealings. 
11  From  yours  no  more 

"  MRS.  WIGGS." 

66 Bless  her  old  heart !"  cried  Lucy; 
' i  that  's  the  biggest  widow 's  mite  I  ever 
saw.  Put  the  basket  there  with  my 
other  presents,  Aunt  Chloe;  it  's  worth 
them  all." 

She  went  over  to  the  fire,  and  held 
her  hands  to  the  friendly  blaze;  there 
99 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


was  a  restless,  discontented  look  in  her 
eyes  that  proved  only  too  plainly  that 
her  Christmas  was  not  a  happy  one. 

"I  wish  it  was  night,"  she  said.  "I 
hate  Christmas  afternoon!  Mother  is 
asleep;  it  's  too  early  for  callers.  I 
believe  I  '11  go  down  to  the  Cabbage 
Patch." 

Aunt  Chloe  stuck  out  her  lip  and 
rolled  her  eyes  in  deprecation. 

"Don'  you  do  it,  honey.  What  you 
wanter  be  foolin'  'round  wif  dat  po' 
white  trash  fer?  Why  don'  you  set 
heah  by  de  fiah  an'  bleach  yer  han's  fer 
de  party  to-night?" 

"Bother  the  old  party!"  said  Lucy, 
impatiently.  She  had  begun  disobeying 
Aunt  Chloe  when  she  was  a  very  little 
girl. 

Fifteen  minutes  later  she  was  tramp 
ing  through  the  snow,  her  cheeks  glow 
ing  and  her  spirits  rising.  The  Wiggses, 
TOO 


Mrs.  Wiggs  at  Home 


while  always  interesting,  had  of  late  ac 
quired  a  new  significance.  Since  seeing 
them  in  the  theater  lobby  with  Eobert 
Kedding  she  had  found  it  necessary 
to  make  several  visits  to  the  Cabbage 
Patch,  and  the  chief  topic  of  conversa 
tion  had  been  Mr.  Bob:  how  he  had 
taken  them  to  the  show ;  had  made  Billy 
his  office-boy;  had  sent  them  a  barrel 
of  apples,  and  was  coming  to  see  them 
some  day.  To  which  deluge  of  infor 
mation  Lucy  had  listened  with  outward 
calmness  and  inward  thrills. 

To-day,  as  she  entered  the  Wiggses' 
gate  a  shout  greeted  her.  Billy  let  him 
self  down  from  the  chicken-coop  roof, 
and  ran  forward. 

"Them  Roman  candles  was  n't  no 
good!"  he  cried.  "One  of  'em  busted 
too  soon,  and  'most  blowed  my  hand 
off." 

"Oh,  no,  it  did  n't,  Miss  Lucy!"  said 
101 


}Mrs.'Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


Mrs.  Wiggs,  who  had  hastened  out  to 
meet  her.  "Them  Roman  candons  was 
fine.  Billy's  hand  was  n't  so  bad  hurt 
he  could  n't  shoot  his  gum-bow  shooter 
and  break  Miss  Krasmier's  winder- 
pane.  I  '11  be  glad  when  to-morrow 
comes,  an'  he  goes  back  to  the  office! 
Come  right  in,"  she  continued.  "Asia, 
dust  off  a  cheer  fer  Miss  Lucy.  That  's 
right;  now,  lemme  help  you  off  with 
yer  things." 

"Lemme  hold  the  muff!"  cried  Aus 
tralia. 

"No,  me— me!"  shrieked  Europena. 

A  center  rush  ensued,  during  which 
the  muff  was  threatened  with  immediate 
annihilation.  The  umpire  interfered. 

"Australia  Wiggs,  you  go  set  in  the 
corner  with  yer  face  to  the  wall.  Euro 
pena,  come  here!"  She  lifted  the  wail 
ing  little  girl  to  her  lap,  and  looked  her 
102 


Mrs.  Wiggs  at  Home 

sternly  in  the  eye.  "If  you  don't  hush 
this  minute,  I  '11  spank  your  doll ! ' ' 

The  awful  threat  was  sufficient.  Mrs. 
Wiggs  had  long  ago  discovered  the  most 
effectual  way  of  punishing  Europena. 

When  peace  was  restored,  Lucy  looked 
about  her.  In  each  window  was  a  piece 
of  holly  tied  with  a  bit  of  red  calico, 
and  on  the  partly  cleared  table  she  saw 
the  remains  of  a  real  Christmas  dinner. 

"We  had  a  grand  dinner  to-day," 
said  Mrs.  Wiggs,  following  her  glance. 
"Mr.  Bob  sent  the  turkey;  we  et  all  we 
wanted,  an'  got  'nough  left  fer  the  rest 
of  the  week,  countin'  hash  an'  soup  an' 
all.  Asia  says  she  's  goin'  to  hide  it, 
so  as  I  can't  give  no  more  away.  By 
the  way,  do  you  notice  what  Asia  's 
doin'f9' 

Lucy  went  to  the  window,  where  Asia 
was  busily  working.  This  taciturn  lit- 
103 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


tie  girl,  with  her  old,  solemn  face  and 
clever  fingers,  was  her  favorite  of  the 
children. 

"What  are  you  making?"  she  asked, 
as  the  child  dipped  a  brush  into  one  of 
three  cans  which  stood  before  her. 

"She  's  paintin'  a  picture,"  an 
nounced  Mrs.  Wiggs,  proudly.  ' l  Looked 
like  she  was  jes'  crazy  'bout  picture 
painting,  an'  I  said,  'Well,  Asia,  if  you 
have  made  up  yer  mind  to  be  a  artist, 
guess  you  '11  have  to  be  one.'  Seems 
like  when  folks  kin  do  pianner  playin' 
an'  picture  paintin'  it  ain't  right  to  let 
'em  wash  dishes  an'  clean  up  all  the 
time.  So  I  went  to  a  store  an'  ast  fer 
some  paint  to  make  pictures  with,  and 
they  wanted  seventy  cents  fer  a  little 
box  full.  Ain't  that  a  mighty  heap, 
Miss  Lucy,  jes'  fer  plain  paint,  'fore 
it  's  made  up  into  flowers  an'  trees  an' 
things?  Well,  anyway,  I  could  n't  git 
104 


Mrs.  Wiggs  at  Home 

it,  but  I  come  home  an'  got  me  three  tin 
cans  an7  took  'em  'round  to  Mr.  Beck 
er's  paint-shop,  an'  he  poured  me  a  lit 
tle  red  an'  yaller  an'  blue,  an'  only 
charged  me  a  nickel,  an'  throwed  in  a 
brush.  Asia  's  painted  a  heap  with  it. 
I  '11  show  you  some  of  her  things." 

It  was  not  necessary,  for  in  every 
direction  Lucy  looked  her  eyes  were 
greeted  with  specimens  of  Asia 's  handi 
work.  Across  the  foot-board  of  the  bed 
was  a  spray  of  what  might  have  passed 
for  cauliflower,  the  tin  boiler  was  en 
circled  by  a  wreath  of  impressionistic 
roses,  and  on  the  window-pane  a  piece 
of  exceedingly  golden  goldenrod  bent 
in  an  obliging  curve  in  order  to  cover 
the  crack  in  the  glass. 

"It  's  perfectly  wonderful!"  said 
Lucy,  with  entire  truthfulness. 

"Ain't  it?"  said  Mrs.  Wiggs,  with 
the  awed  tone  one  uses  in  the  presence 
105 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


of  genius.  "Sometimes  I  jes'  can't  be 
lieve  my  eyes,  when  I  see  what  my  chil- 
dern  kin  do !  They  inherit  their  educa 
tion  after  Mr.  Wiggs;  he  was  so  smart, 
an'  b 'longed  to  such  a  fine  fambly. 
Why,  Mr.  Wiggs  had  real  Injun  blood 
in  his  veins;  his  grandpa  was  a  squaw 
—a  full-blood  Injun  squaw!" 

Lucy  made  a  heroic  effort  to  keep  a 
solemn  face,  as  she  asked  if  Asia  looked 
like  him. 

1 '  Oh,  my,  no ! "  continued  Mrs.  Wiggs. 
"He  was  a  blunette,  real  dark  com 
plected.  I  remember  when  he  f  us '  come 
a-courtin'  me  folks  thought  he  was  a 
Dago.  Pa  was  n't  to  say  well  off  in 
those  days."  Mrs.  Wiggs  never  ap 
plied  superlatives  to  misfortunes.  "He 
had  a  good  many  of  us  to  take  keer  of, 
an'  after  Mr.  Wiggs  had  been  keepin' 
company  with  me  fer  'bout  two  weeks 
he  drove  up  one  night  with  a  load  of 
106 


Mrs.  Wiggs  at  Home 

coal  an'  kindlin',  an7  called  pa  out  to 
the  fence.  'Mr.  Smoot,'  sez  he,  'as  long 
as  I  am  courtin'  your  daughter,  I  think 
I  orter  furnish  the  fire  to  do  it  by.  Ef 
you  don't  mind,'  sez  he,  'I  '11  jes'  put 
this  wagon-load  of  fuel  in  the  coal- 
house.  I  'spect  by  the  time  it  's  used 
up  Nance  '11  be  of  my  way  of  think- 
in'.'  An'  I  was!"  added  Mrs.  Wiggs, 
laughing. 

Ordinarily  Lucy  found  endless  diver 
sion  in  listening  to  the  family  reminis 
cences,  but  to-day  another  subject  was 
on  her  mind. 

"How  is  Billy  getting  along!"  she 
asked. 

"Jes'  fine!"  said  Mrs.  Wiggs;  "only 
he  comes  home  at  night  'most  dead.  I 
give  him  money  to  ride,  but  ever'  day 
last  week  he  et  up  his  nickel." 

i '  Who— who  has  charge  of  him  now  1 ' ' 
Lucy  blushed  at  her  subterfuge. 
107 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


"Mr.  Bob,"  said  Mrs.  Wiggs;  "he  's 
the  gentleman  that  took  us  to  supper. 
He  's  got  money.  Asia  said  he  give  the 
nigger  waiter  a  quarter.  Billy  is  jes' 
crazy  'bout  Mr.  Bob;  says  he  's  goin' 
to  be  jes'  like  him  when  he  grows  up. 
He  will,  too,  if  he  sets  his  head  to  it! 
Only  he  never  kin  have  them  big  brown 
eyes  an'  white  teeth  Mr.  Bob  's  got. 
Why,  when  Mr.  Bob  smiles  it  jes'  sort 
of  breaks  up  his  whole  face." 

Lucy's  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  mam 
moth  butterfly  upon  whose  iridescent 
wings  Asia  was  putting  the  finishing 
touches,  but  her  thoughts  were  far 
away. 

"I  jes'  wish  you  could  see  him!" 
went  on  Mrs.  Wiggs,  enthusiastically. 

"I  wish  I  could!"  said  Lucy,  with 
such  fervor  that  Mrs.  Wiggs  paused  on 
her  way  to  answer  a  knock  at  the  out 
side  door. 

108 


Mrs.  Wiggs  at  Home 

There  was  a  scraping  of  feet  in  the 
passage. 

"I  have  been  driving  all  over  the 
country  looking  for  you,"  said  a  man's 
voice.  "I  have  some  Christmas  traps 
for  the  kids." 

Lucy  rose  hastily,  and  turned  just  as 
Redding  entered. 

"Mr.  Bob,  this  is  Miss  Lucy,"  an 
nounced  Mrs.  Wiggs,  triumphantly; 
"she  was  jes'  'lowin'  she  ?d  like  to  see 
you." 

If  a  blue-eyed  angel  straight  from  the 
peaks  of  paradise  had  been  presented 
to  him,  Bedding  could  not  have  been 
more  astounded  nor  more  enraptured. 

But  to  Lucy  it  was  a  moment  of  in 
tense  chagrin  and  embarrassment.  Dur 
ing  the  long  silence  of  the  past  year  she 
had  persuaded  herself  that  Bedding  no 
longer  cared  for  her.  To  be  thrust  upon 
him  in  this  way  was  intolerable.  All 
109 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


the  blood  in  her  veins  rushed  to  her 
face. 

"Do  you  know  where  my  muff  is, 
Mrs.  Wiggs?"  she  asked,  after  a  formal 
greeting. 

"Oh!  you  ain't  a-goin'?"  asked  the 
hostess,  anxiously.  "I  wanted  you  all 
to  git  acquainted." 

"Yes,  I  must  go,"  said  Lucy,  hur 
riedly,  "if  you  will  find  my  muff." 

She  stood  nervously  pulling  on  her 
gloves,  while  Mrs.  Wiggs  searched  for 
the  lost  property.  There  was  a  deafen 
ing  tumult  in  her  heart,  and  though  she 
bit  her  lips  to  keep  from  laughing,  the 
tears  stood  in  her  eyes. 

' '  Austry  's  under  the  bed, ' '  announced 
Europena,  who  had  joined  in  the  quest. 

"I  ain't!"  came  in  shrill,  indignant 
tones,  as  Mrs.  Wiggs  dragged  forth  the 
culprit,  and  restored  the  muff. 

"May  I  drive  you  over  to  the  ave- 
110 


Mrs.  Wiggs  at  Home 

nue?  I  am  going  that  way."  It  was 
Redding  ?s  voice,  but  it  sounded  queer 
and  unnatural. 

"Oh,  no!  No,  thank  you,"  gasped 
Lucy,  hardly  knowing  what  she  said. 
Her  one  idea  was  to  get  away  before 
she  broke  down  completely. 

Redding  held  the  door  open  as  she 
passed  out.  His  face  was  cold,  calm, 
inscrutable;  not  a  quiver  of  the  mouth, 
not  a  flutter  of  the  lids,  but  the  light 
went  out  of  his  eyes  and  hope  died  in 
his  heart. 

Mrs.  Wiggs  stood  watching  the  scene 
in  perplexity. 

' '  I  dunno  what  ailed  Miss  Lucy, ' '  she 
said,  apologetically;  "hope  it  was  n't 
the  toothache." 


Ill 


CHAPTER  IX 

HOW    SPRING   CAME    TO    THE    CABBAGE 
PATCH 

"The  roads,  the  woods,  the  heavens,  the  hills 

Are  not  a  world  to-day— 
But  just  a  place  God  made  for  us 
In  which  to  play." 

HEN  the  last  snow  of 
the  winter  had  melted, 
and  the  water  was  no 
longer  frozen  about  the 
corner  pump,  the  com 
mons  lost  their  hard,  brown  look,  and 
a  soft  green  tinge  appeared  instead. 
There  were  not  many  ways  of  tell 
ing  when  spring  came  to  the  Cabbage 
Patch;  no  trees  shook  forth  their  glad 
little  leaves  of  welcome,  no  anemones 
and  snow-drops  brought  the  gentle  mes- 
112 


How  Spring  came  to  the  Cabbage  Patch 


sage,  even  the  birds  that  winged  their 
way  from  the  South-land  hurried  by, 
without  so  much  as  a  chirp  of  greeting. 

But  the  Cabbage  Patch  knew  it  was 
spring,  nevertheless;  something  whis 
pered  it  in  the  air,  a  dozen  little  signs 
gave  the  secret  away;  weeds  were 
springing  up  in  the  fence  corners,  the 
puddles  which  a  few  months  ago  were 
covered  with  ice  now  reflected  bits  of 
blue  sky,  and  the  best  token  of  all  was 
the  bright,  warm  sunshine  that  clung  to 
the  earth  as  if  to  love  it  back  into  beauty 
and  life  again. 

One  afternoon  Mrs.  Wiggs  stood  at 
her  gate  talking  to  Bedding.  It  was  the 
first  time  he  had  been  there  since  Christ 
mas  day,  for  his  first  visit  had  been  too 
painful  for  him  to  desire  to  repeat  it. 

"Yes,  indeed,  Billy  kin  go,"  Mrs. 
Wiggs  was  saying.  "I  'm  mighty  glad 
you  drove  him  by  home  to  git  on  his 
8  113 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


good  coat.  He  never  was  to  the  fair 
grounds  before;  it  '11  be  a  big  treat. 
How  's  Mr.  Dick  to-day ?" 

"No  better,"  said  Redding;  "he 
coughed  all  night." 

"He  was  takin'  a  nap  o'  sleep  when 
I  went  to  clean  up  this  mornin',"  said 
Mrs.  Wiggs,  "so  I  did  n't  disturb  him. 
He  ain't  fer  long,  pore  feller!" 

"No,  poor  chap,"  said  Redding, 
sadly. 

Mrs.  Wiggs  saw  the  shadow  on  his 
face,  and  hastened  to  change  the  sub 
ject.  "What  do  you  think  of  Asia's 
fence?"  she  asked. 

"What  about  it?" 

"She  done  it  herself,"  said  Mrs. 
Wiggs.  "That  an'  the  pavement,  too. 
Mrs.  Krasmier's  goat  et  up  her  flowers 
las'  year,  an'  this  year  she  'lowed  she  'd 
fix  it  different.  Chris  Hazy,  that  boy 
over  yonder  with  the  peg-stick,  helped 
114 


How  Spring  came  to  the  Cabbage  Patch 


her  dig  the  post-holes,  but  she  done  the 
rest  herself." 

"Well,  she  is  pretty  clever!"  said 
Kedding,  almost  incredulously,  as  he 
examined  the  fence  and  sidewalk. 
"How  old  is  she!" 

"Fourteen,  goin7  on  to  fifteen.  Asia, 
come  here." 

The  girl  left  the  flower-bed  she  was 
digging,  and  came  forward. 

"Not  a  very  big  girl,  are  you?"  said 
Bedding,  smiling  at  her.  "How  would 
you  like  to  go  up  to  the  tile  factory,  and 
learn  to  do  decorating?" 

Her  serious  face  lit  up  with  great  en 
thusiasm;  she  forgot  her  shyness,  and 
said,  eagerly :  ' '  Oh,  yes,  sir !  Could  1 1 " 

Before  Eedding  could  answer,  Mrs. 
Wiggs  broke  in: 

"You  'd  be  gittin'  a  artist,  Mr.  Bob! 
Them  fingers  of  hers  kin  do  anything. 
Last  fall  she  built  that  there  little  green- 
115 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


house  out  of  ole  planks,  an'  kep'  it  full 
of  flowers  all  winter;  put  a  lamp  in 
durin'  the  cold  spell.  You  orter  see  the 
things  she  's  painted.  And  talk  about 
rnud  pictures !  She  could  jes '  take  some 
of  that  there  mud  under  that  hoss  's  feet, 
an'  make  it  look  so  much  like  you,  you 
would  n't  know  which  was  which." 

Billy's  appearance  at  this  moment 
saved  Redding  from  immediate  dis 
grace. 

"You  come  to  the  office  with  Billy  in 
the  morning, ' '  he  called  to  Asia,  as  they 
started  off;  "we  '11  see  what  can  be 
done." 

Asia  went  back  to  her  digging  with 
a  will;  the  prospect  of  work,  of  learn 
ing  how  to  do  things  right,  and,  above 
all,  of  learning  how  to  paint,  filled  her 
with  happiness. 

"If  I  was  you  I  'd  make  that  bed  in 
the  shape  of  a  star,"  said  her  mother, 
116 


How  Spring  came  to  the  Cabbage  Patch 


breaking  in  on  her  reflections.  "Why 
don't  you  make  it  a  mason  star?  Yer 
pa  was  a  fine  mason ;  it  would  be  a  sort 
of  compliment  to  him." 

"What  is  a  mason  star  like?"  asked 
Asia. 

"Well,  now  I  ain't  right  sure  whether 
it  's  got  five  points  or  six.  Either  way 
will  do.  Lands  alive,  I  do  believe  there 
comes  Miss  Lucy!" 

Lucy  Olcott  had  been  a  frequent  vis 
itor  of  late.  Through  Mrs.  Wiggs  she 
had  gotten  interested  in  Mrs.  Schultz, 
and  often  stopped  in  to  read  to  the  bed 
ridden  old  lady.  Here,  of  course,  she 
heard  a  great  deal  about  the  Eichorns, 
the  elite  of  the  Cabbage  Patch,  whose 
domestic  infelicities  furnished  the  chief 
interest  in  Mrs.  Schultz 's  life.  Lucy 
had  even  stood  on  a  chair,  at  the  inva 
lid's  earnest  request,  to  count  the  jars 
of  preserves  in  the  Eichorn  pantry. 
117 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


Later  she  had  become  acquainted  with 
Miss  Hazy,  the  patient  little  woman  in 
monochrome,  whose  whole  pitiful  exist 
ence  was  an  apology  when  it  might  have 
been  a  protest. 

In  fact,  Lucy  became  an  important 
personage  in  the  neighborhood.  She 
was  sought  for  advice,  called  upon  for 
comfort,  and  asked  to  share  many  joys. 
Her  approach  was  usually  heralded  by 
a  shout,  "That  's  her  a-cominM"  and 
she  was  invariably  escorted  across  the 
commons  by  a  guard  of  ragged  but  de 
voted  youngsters.  And  the  friendship 
of  these  simple  people  opened  her  eyes 
to  the  great  problems  of  humanity,  and 
as  she  worked  among  them  and  knew 
life  as  it  was,  the  hard  little  bud  of  her 
girlhood  blossomed  into  the  great  soft 
rose  of  womanhood. 

"Did  n't  you  meet  Mr.  Bob  up  the 
street? "  asked  Mrs.  Wiggs,  as  she  led 
118 


How  Spring  came  to  the  Cabbage  PatcJi 


the  way  into  the  kitchen.  "Him  an' 
Billy  have  jes'  left,  goin'  out  to  the 
fair  grounds.  Mr.  Bob  's  jes'  naturally 
the  best  man  I  ever  set  eyes  on,  Miss 
Lucy!  Got  the  biggest  heart,  an'  al 
ways  doin'  something  kind  fer  folks. 
Jes'  now  talkin'  'bout  gittin'  Asia  a 
place  at  the  tile  fact'ry.  I  don't  see 
how  you  missed  'em!  If  he  'd  a  sawn 
you  with  them  vi'lets  in  yer  belt,  an' 
them  roses  in  yer  cheeks,  I  bet  he 
would  n't  'a'  went." 

' '  Oh,  yes,  he  would ! ' '  said  Lucy,  em 
phatically.  "My  roses  don't  appeal  to 
Mr.  Bob." 

"Well,  he  likes  yer  eyes,  anyway," 
said  Mrs.  Wiggs,  determined  to  carry 
her  point. 

"Who  said  so!"  demanded  Lucy. 

' '  He  did.  I  ast  him.  I  said  they  was 
regular  star-eyes,  jes'  shining  blue  with 
them  black  eyelashes  rayin'  out  all 
119 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


'round,  an'  he  said  yes,  that  was  the 
right  name  fer  'era— star-eyes." 

There  was  a  mist  over  the  star-eyes 
as  Lucy  turned  away. 

'  '  That  's  right ;  set  right  down  there 
by  the  winder.  It  's  so  pretty  out  to 
day  it  makes  you  feel  good  clean  down 
yer  back." 

1  '  I  believe  you  always  feel  that  way, ' ' 
said  Lucy,  pulling  off  her  gloves. 
" Don't  you  ever  worry  over  things?" 

Mrs.  Wiggs  grew  serious.  "I  'm 
lonesome  fer  Jimmy  all  the  time,"  she 
said  simply.  "Some  folks  goes  right 
under  when  trouble  comes,  but  I  carry 
mine  fur  an'  easy." 

"I  don't  mean  grieving,"  said  Lucy; 
"I  mean  worrying  and  fretting." 

"Well,  yes,"  admitted  Mrs.  Wiggs, 

taking    a    hot    iron    from    the    stove, 

"I  've  done  that,  too.    I  remember  onct 

last  winter  I  was  tooken  sick,  an'  I  got 

120 


How  Spring  came  to  the  Cabbage  Patch 


to  pesterin'  'bout  what  the  childern  'ud 
do  if  I  died.  They  was  n't  no  money 
in  the  house,  an'  they  did  n't  know 
where  to  git  none.  All  one  night  I  laid 
there  with  my  head  'most  bustin',  jes' 
worryin'  'bout  it.  By  an'  by  I  was  so 
miserable  I  ast  the  Lord  what  I  mus' 
do,  an'  he  tole  me."  There  was  abso 
lute  conviction  in  her  tone  and  manner. 
' i  Nex '  mornin ', ' '  she  went  on,  i '  soon  's 
I  could  I  went  over  to  the  'spensary  an' 
ast  fer  the  chief  doctor. 

66  ' Doctor,^  I  sez,  'don't  you  buy 
corpses  f ' 

"  'Yes,'  sez  he,  lookin'  kinder  funny. 

"  'Well,'  sez  I,  'I  want  to  sell  mine.' 

"Then  I  tole  him  all  'bout  it,  an'  ast 
him  if  he  would  n't  take  my  body  after 
I  was  gone,  an'  give  the  money  to  the 
childern. 

"  'Will  you  put  it  in  writin','  sez  he. 

"  'Yes,'  sez  I,  'if  you  '11  do  the  same.' 
121 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patcli 


1 1  So  lie  drawed  up  the  papers,  an '  we 
both  signed,  an'  a  man  with  a  spine  in 
his  back  an'  a  lady  with  the  rheumatiz 
witnessed  it.  So  you  see,"  concluded 
Mrs.  Wiggs,  "I  did  n't  die;  you  mark 
my  words,  it  ain't  never  no  use  puttin' 
up  yer  umbrell'  till  it  rains!" 

Lucy  laughed.  "Well,  you  certainly 
practise  what  you  preach." 

"Not  always,"  said  Mrs.  Wiggs. 
"  I  'm  'feared  I  use '  to  worry  some  over 
Mr.  Wiggs.  T 'words  the  last  he  uster 
pretty  often—"  Here  Mrs.  Wiggs 
tipped  an  imaginary  bottle  to  her  lips, 
and  gave  Lucy  a  significant  wink. 
Even  in  the  strictest  confidence,  she 
could  not  bear  to  speak  of  the  weakness 
of  the  late  lamented. 

"But  no  matter  how  bad  he  done,  he 
always  tried  to  do  better.  Mr.  Dick 
sorter  puts  me  in  mind  of  him  'bout 
that." 

122 


How  Spring  came  to  the  Cabbage  Patch 


' 'Who  is  Mr.  Dick?" 

"He  's  Mr.  Bob's  friend.  Stays  at 
his  rooms  sence  he  was  took  down." 

"Is  Mr.  Kedding  sick?"  asked  Lucy, 
the  color  suddenly  leaving  her  face. 

"No,  it  's  Mr.  Dick;  he  's  con- 
sump  ted.  I  clean  up  his  room  ever' 
mornin'.  He  coughs  all  the  time,  jes' 
like  Mr.  Wiggs  done.  Other  day  he  had 
a  orful  spell  while  I  was  there.  I 
wanted  to  git  him  some  whisky,  but  he 
shuck  his  head.  'I  'm  on  the  water- 
cart,'  sez  he.  'Bob  's  drivin'  it.'  He 
ain't  no  fatter  'n  a  knittin '-needle,  an' 
weaker  'n  water.  You  orter  see  him 
watch  f er  Mr.  Bob !  He  sets  by  the  win 
der,  all  propped  up  with  pillars,  an' 
never  tecks  his  eyes  offen  that  corner. 
An'  when  Mr.  Bob  comes  in  an'  sets 
down  by  him  an'  tells  him  what  's  goin' 
on,  an'  sorter  fools  with  him  a  spell, 
looks  like  he  picks  up  right  off.  He 
123 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


ain't  got  no  folks  nor  nothin'— jes,  Mr. 
Bob.  He  shorely  does  set  store  by  him 
—jes'  shows  it  ever'  way.  That  's 
right,  too.  I  hold  that  it  's  wrong  to 
keep  ever 'thing  bottled  up  inside  you. 
Yer  feelin's  is  like  ras 'berry  vineger: 
if  you  're  skeered  to  use  'em  an'  keep 
on  savin'  'em,  first  thing  you  know 
they  've  done  'vaporated!" 

Lucy's  experience  had  proved  the 
contrary,  but  she  smiled  bravely  back 
at  Mrs.  Wiggs,  with  a  new  tenderness 
in  her  face. 

i '  You  have  taught  me  lots  of  things ! ' ' 
she  said  impulsively.  "You  are  one  of 
the  best  and  happiest  women  I  know." 

"Well,  I  guess  I  ain't  the  best  by  a 
long  sight,  but  I  may  be  the  happiest. 
An'  I  got  cause  to  be :  four  of  the  smart 
est  childern  that  ever  lived,  a  nice 
house,  fair  to  middlin'  health  when  I 
ain't  got  the  rheumatiz,  and  folks  al- 
124 


How  Spring  came  to  the  Cabbage  Patch 


ways  goin'  clean  out  of  the  way  to  be 
good  to  me !  Ain't  that  'nough  to  make 
a  person  happy?  I  '11  be  fifty  years  old 
on  the  Fourth  of  July,  but  I  hold  there 
ain't  no  use  in  dyin'  'fore  yer  time. 
Lots  of  folks  is  walkin'  'round  jes'  as 
dead  as  they  '11  ever  be.  I  believe  in 
gittin'  as  much  good  outen  life  as  you 
kin— not  that  I  ever  set  out  to  look  fer 
happiness;  seems  like  the  folks  that 
does  that  never  finds  it.  I  jes'  do  the 
best  I  kin  where  the  good  Lord  put  me 
at,  an'  it  looks  like  I  got  a  happy  feelin' 
in  me  'most  all  the  time. ' ' 

Lucy  sat  silent  for  a  while,  gazing  out 
of  the  window.  Mrs.  Wiggs's  philos 
ophy  was  having  its  effect.  Presently 
she  rose  and  untied  the  bundle  she  held. 

'  '  Here  is  a  dress  I  brought  for  Asia, ' ' 
she  said,  shaking  out  the  folds  of  a  soft 
crepon. 

' '  Umph,  umph !  Ain  't  that  grand  ? ' ' 
125 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


exclaimed  Mrs.  Wiggs,  coming  from 
behind  the  ironing-board  to  examine  it. 
"It  does  seem  lucky  that  your  leavin's 
jes'  fits  Asia,  an'  Asia's  jes'  fits  Aus- 
try;  there  ain't  no  symptoms  of  them 
bein'  handed  down,  neither!  We  all 
model  right  after  you,  but  it  looks  like 
Asia  's  the  only  one  that  ketches  yer 
style.  Oh,  must  you  go?"  she  added,  as 
Lucy  picked  up  her  gloves. 

"Yes;  I  promised  Mrs.  Schultz  to 
read  to  her  this  afternoon." 

"Well,  stop  in  on  yer  way  back— I  '11 
have  a  little  present  ready  fer  you." 
It  was  an  unwritten  law  that  no  guest 
should  depart  without  a  gift  of  some 
kind.  Sometimes  it  was  one  of  Asia's 
paintings,  again  it  was  a  package  of 
sunflower  seed,  or  a  bottle  of  vinegar, 
and  once  Lucy  had  taken  home  four 
gourds  and  a  bunch  of  paper  roses. 

"I  declare  I  never  will  git  no  work 
126 


How  Spring  came  to  the  tiabbage  Patch 


done  if  this  weather  keeps  up!"  said 
Mrs.  Wiggs,  as  she  held  the  gate  open. 
"If  I  was  n't  so  stove  up,  an'  nobody 
was  n't  lookin',  I  'd  jes'  skitter  'round 
this  here  yard  like  a  colt!" 


127 


CHAPTER   X 

AUSTRALIA'S  MISHAP 

"'T  is  one  thing  to  be  tempted, 
Another  thing  to  fall." 

HKOUGH      the      long, 
sunny    afternoon    Mrs. 
Wiggs    sang    over    her 
ironing,        and        Asia 
worked  diligently  in  her 
flower-bed.     Around  the  corner  of  the 
shed  which  served  as  Cuba's  dwelling- 
place,   Australia   and   Europena  made 
mud-pies.    Peace  and  harmony  reigned 
in  this  shabby  Garden  of  Eden  until 
temptation  entered,  and  the  weakest  fell. 
11  'T   ain't  no   fun  jes'   keepin'   on 
makin'  mud-pies,"  announced  Austra- 
128 


Australia's  Mishap 

lia,  after  enough  pastry  had  been  manu 
factured  to  start  a  miniature  bakery. 

' i  Wish  we  could  make  some  white 
cakes,  like  they  have  at  Mr.  Bagby's," 
said  Europena. 

1  'Could  if  we  had  some  whitewash. 
I  '11  tell  you  what  's  let  do !  Let  's  take 
some  of  Asia's  paint  she  's  goin'  to 
paint  the  fence  with,  an'  make  'em 
green  on  top." 

"Ma  would  n't  like  it,"  protested 
Europena;  "besides,  I  don't  want  my 
little  pies  green." 

"I  'm  goin'  to,"  said  Australia,  be 
ginning  her  search  for  the  paint-can. 
"It  won't  take  but  a  little  teeny  bit; 
they  '11  never  miss  it." 

After  some  time  the  desired  object 
was  discovered  on  a  shelf  in  the  shed. 
Its  high  position  enhanced  its  value, 
giving  it  the  cruel  fascination  of  the 
unattainable. 

9  129 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


6 'Could  you  stand  up  on  my  soldiers, 
like  the  man  at  the  show?"  demanded 
Australia. 

"I  'd  fall  off,"  said  Europena. 

"  'Fraid-cat!"  taunted  her  sister,  in 
disgust.  ' '  Do  you  reckon  you  could  hoi ' 
the  chair  while  I  climbed  up  on  the 
back?" 

"It  ain't  got  no  bottom." 

"Well,  it  don't  need  to  have  no  bot 
tom  if  I  'm  goin'  to  stand  on  its  back," 
said  Australia,  sharply.  Leaders  of 
great  enterprises  must  of  necessity  turn 
deaf  ears  to  words  of  discouragement. 

"You  might  git  killed,"  persisted 
Europena. 

"  'T  would  n't  matter,"  said  Austra 
lia,  loftily;  "  't  would  n't  be  but  the 
seventh  time.  I  got  three  more  times 
to  die.  'Fore  you  was  borned  I  was 
drownded  out  in  the  country,  that  was 
one  time ;  then  I  fell  in  the  ash-bar '1  and 
130 


Australia's  Mishap 

was  dead,  that  's  two  times;  an'— an' 
then  I  et  the  stove-polish,  that  's  four 
times;  an'  I  can't  'member,  but  the  nex' 
time  will  be  seven.  I  don't  keer  how 
much  I  git  killed,  till  it  's  eight  times, 
then  I  'm  goin'  to  be  good  all  the  time, 
'cause  when  you  are  dead  nine  times 
they  put  you  in  a  hole  an'  throw  dirt 
on  you!" 

Australia  had  become  so  absorbed  in 
her  theory  of  reincarnation  that  she  had 
forgotten  the  paint,  but  the  bottomless 
chair  recalled  it. 

' i  Now,  you  lay  'crost  the  chair,  Euro- 
pena,  an'  I  '11  climb  up,"  she  com 
manded. 

Europena,  though  violently  opposed 
to  the  undertaking,  would  not  forsake 
her  leader  at  a  critical  moment.  She 
had  uttered  her  protest,  had  tried  in 
vain  to  stem  the  current  of  events ;  noth 
ing  was  left  her  now  but  to  do  or  die. 
131 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


She  valiantly  braced  her  small  body 
across  the  frame  of  the  chair,  and  Aus 
tralia  began  her  perilous  ascent. 

Cuba  looked  mildly  astonished  as  the 
plump  figure  of  the  little  girl  appeared 
above  his  feed-box. 

"I  've  'most  got  it ! "  cried  Australia, 
reaching  as  high  as  possible,  and  get 
ting  her  forefinger  over  the  edge  of  the 
big  can. 

At  this  juncture  Cuba,  whose  nose 
had  doubtless  been  tickled  by  Austra 
lia's  apron-string,  gave  a  prodigious 
sneeze.  Europena,  feeling  that  retribu 
tion  was  upon  them,  fled  in  terror.  The 
ballast  being  removed  from  the  chair, 
the  result  was  inevitable.  A  crash,  a 
heterogeneous  combination  of  small 
girl,  green  paint,  and  shattered  chair, 
then  a  series  of  shrieks  that  resembled 
the  whistles  on  New  Year's  eve! 

Redding  was  the  first  to  the  rescue. 
132 


Australia's  Mishap 

He  had  just  driven  Billy  to  the  gate 
when  the  screams  began,  and  with  a 
bound  he  was  out  of  the  buggy  and 
rushing  to  the  scene  of  disaster.  The 
picture  that  met  his  eyes  staggered  him. 
Australia,  screaming  wildly,  lay  in  what 
appeared  to  his  excited  vision  to  be  a 
pool  of  green  blood;  Europena  was 
jumping  up  and  down  beside  her,  call 
ing  wildly  for  her  mother,  while  Cuba, 
with  ears  erect  and  a  green  liquid 
trickling  down  his  nose,  sternly  sur 
veyed  the  wreck.  In  a  moment  Red 
ding  had  Australia  in  his  arms,  and 
was  mopping  the  paint  from  her  face 
and  hair. 

"  There,  there,  little  sister,  you  are  n't 
much  hurt!"  he  was  saying,  as  Mrs. 
Wiggs  and  Asia  rushed  in. 

The  damage  done  proved  external 
rather  than  internal,  so  after  assuring 
herself  that  no  bones  were  broken  Mrs. 
133 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


Wiggs    constituted    herself   a    salvage 
corps. 

4 'Take  off  yer  coat  out  here,  Mr. 
Bob,  an'  I  '11  take  off  Austry's  dress. 
Them  's  the  worst,  'ceptin'  her  plaits. 
Now,  we  '11  all  go  up  to  the  kitchen, 
an'  see  what  kin  be  did." 

Now,  Fate,  or  it  may  have  been  the 
buggy  at  the  gate,  decreed  that  just  as 
they  turned  the  corner  of  the  house, 
Lucy  Olcott  should  be  coming  up  the 
walk.  For  a  moment  she  stood  bewil 
dered  at  the  sight  that  greeted  her. 
Redding,  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  was  lead 
ing  Australia  by  the  hand;  the  little 
girl  wore  a  red-flannel  petticoat,  and 
over  her  face  and  hands  and  to  the  full 
length  of  her  flaxen  braids  ran  sticky 
streams  of  bright  green  paint. 

Involuntarily,  Lucy  looked  at  Red 
ding  for  explanation,  and  they  both 
laughed. 

134 


Australia's  Mishap 

6 'Ain't  it  lucky  it  was  the  back  of 
her  head  'stid  of  the  front?"  said  Mrs. 
Wiggs,  coming  up;  "it  might  'a7  put 
her  eyes  out.  Pore  chile,  she  looks  like 
a  Mollygraw!  Come  right  in,  an7  let  's 
git  to  work." 

Billy  was  despatched  for  turpentine ; 
Lucy,  with  an  apron  pinned  about  her, 
began  operations  on  Australia's  hair, 
while  Bedding  sat  helplessly  by,  wait 
ing  for  Mrs.  Wiggs  to  make  his  coat 
presentable. 

"I  am  afraid  her  hair  will  have  to  be 
cut,"  said  Lucy,  ruefully,  as  she  held 
up  a  tangled  snarl  of  yellow  and  green. 

"All  right,"  Mrs.  Wiggs  said 
promptly.  "Whatever  you  say  is  all 
right." 

But  Australia  felt  differently;  her 
sobs,  suppressed  for  a  time,  broke  forth 
afresh. 

"I  ain't  goin'  to  have  my  hair  cut 
135 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


off!"  she  wept.  "Jes'  leave  it  on  this 
a-way. ' ' 

Mrs.  Wiggs  commanded  and  Lucy 
entreated  in  vain.  Finally  Redding 
drew  his  chair  up  in  front  of  the  small 
girl. 

"Australia,  listen  to  me  just  a  mo 
ment,  won 't  you  1  Please ! ' ' 

She  uncovered  one  eye. 

"You  would  n't  want  green  hair, 
would  you?" 

A  violent  shake  of  the  head. 

"Well,  if  you  will  let  Miss  Olcott  cut 
off  all  that  ugly  green  hair,  and  give 
the  pretty  curls  a  chance  to  grow  back, 
I  '11  give  you— let  's  see,  what  shall  I 
give  you!" 

"A  doll-buggy  an'  dishes,"  sug 
gested  Europena,  who  was  standing  by. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "doll-buggy  and 
dishes,  and  a  dollar  besides!" 

Such  munificence  was  not  to  be  with- 
136 


Australia's  Mishap 

stood.  Australia  suffered  herself  to  be 
shorn,  in  view  of  the  future  tempering 
of  the  wind. 

"You  orter  been  a  hoss-trainer,  Mr. 
Bob,"  said  Mrs.  Wiggs,  admiringly, 
when  the  deed  was  accomplished;  "yer 
voice  jes'  makes  folks  do  things!" 

"Not  everybody,  Mrs.  Wiggs,"  he 
said  grimly. 

"Where  do  you  suppose  Billy's  went 
with  the  fcurkentine  ?  I  declare  that  boy 
would  be  a  good  one  to  send  after  trou 
ble!  Oh,  you  ain't  goin'  to  try  an' 
wear  it  this  a- way!"  she  said,  as  Bed 
ding  insisted  on  putting  on  his  coat. 

As  he  turned  to  the  door,  a  light  hand 
touched  his  arm.  Lucy  unfastened  the 
violets  at  her  belt,  and  timidly  held 
them  toward  him. 

"Will  you  take  them— to  Dick!"  she 
faltered. 

He  looked  at  her  in  amazement.  For 
137 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


a  moment  neither  spoke,  but  her  eyes 
made  the  silence  eloquent ;  they  told  the 
secret  that  her  lips  dared  not  utter. 
There  are  times  when  explanations  are 
superfluous.  Redding  threw  discretion 
to  the  winds,  and,  regardless  of  Wiggses 
and  consequences,  took  the  "Christmas 
Lady"  in  his  arms,  and  kissed  away 
the  year  of  grief  and  separation. 

It  was  not  until  Mrs.  Wiggs  saw  their 
trap  disappear  in  the  twilight  that  she 
recovered  her  speech. 

"Well,  it  certainly  do  beat  me!"  she 
exclaimed,  after  a  fruitless  effort  to  re 
construct  her  standard  of  propriety. 
"I  Ve  heard  of  ' painters'  colic,'  but  I 
never  knowed  it  to  go  to  the  head  be 
fore!" 


138 


CHAPTER  XI 


THE    BENEFIT    DANCE 

"  Those  there  are  whose  hearts  have  a  slope 

southward,  and  are  open  to  the  whole 

noon  of  Nature." 

(^WITHSTANDING 

the  fact  that  calamities 
seldom  come  singly,  it 
was  not  until  the  Fourth 
of  July  that  the  Cab 
bage  Patch  was  again  the  scene  of  an 
accident. 

Mrs.  Wiggs  had  been  hanging  out 
clothes,  and  was  turning  to  pick  up  the 
empty  basket,  when  Billy  precipitated 
himself  into  the  yard,  yelling  wildly : 
" Chris  Hazy  's  broke  his  leg!" 
Mrs.  Wiggs  threw  up  her  hands  in 
139 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


horror.  <  <  Good  lands,  Billy !  Where  's 
he  at?" 

"They  're  bringin'  him  up  the  rail 
road  track." 

Mrs.  Wiggs  rushed  into  the  house. 
"Don't  let  on  to  Miss  Hazy  till  we  git 
him  in,"  she  cautioned,  snatching  up  a 
bundle  of  rags  and  a  bottle  of  lini 
ment.  '  *  Pore  chile !  How  it  must  hurt 
him!  I  '11  run  down  the  track  an'  meet 
'em." 

She  was  breathless  and  trembling 
from  excitement  as  she  turned  the  cor 
ner  at  Mrs.  Schultz  's.  A  crowd  of  boys 
were  coming  up  the  track,  trundling  a 
wheelbarrow,  in  which  sat  Chris  Hazy, 
the  merriest  of  the  lot,  waving  a  piece 
of  his  wooden  leg  in  the  air. 

Mrs.  Wiggs  turned  upon  Billy. 

"I  never  lied,  ma!  I  said  he  broke 
his  leg,"  the  boy  gasped  out  as  best  he 
could  for  laughing,  "an'  you  never  ast 
140 


The  Benefit  Dance 

which  one.  Oh,  boys!  Git  on  to  the 
rags  an'  arniky!" 

Such  a  shout  went  up  that  Mrs.  Wiggs 
laughed  with  the  rest,  but  only  for  a 
moment,  for  she  spied  Miss  Hazy  tot 
tering  toward  them,  and  she  hastened 
forward  to  relieve  her  anxiety. 

"It  's  his  peg-stick!"  she  shouted. 
"P-e-g-stick!" 

This  information,  instead  of  bringing 
relief  to  Miss  Hazy,  caused  a  fresh 
burst  of  tears.  She  sat  down  on  the 
track,  with  her  apron  over  her  face,  and 
swayed  backward  and  forward. 

" Don't  make  much  difference  which 
one  't  was,"  she  sobbed;  "it  would  be 
'bout  as  easy  to  git  another  sure-  'nough 
leg  as  to  git  a  new  wooden  one.  That 
las'  one  cost  seven  dollars.  I  jes'  sewed 
an'  saved  an'  scrimped  to  git  it,  an'  now 
it  's— busted!" 

The  boys  stood  around  in  silent  sym- 
141 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


pathy,  and  when  nobody  was  looking 
Chris  wiped  his  eyes  on  his  coat  sleeve. 
Miss  Hazy's  arrival  had  changed  their 
point  of  view. 

Mrs.  Wiggs  rose  to  the  occasion. 

4  *  Boys,77  she  said,  and  her  voice  had 
an  inspiring  ring,  "I  '11  tell  you  what 
let  7s  do!  Let  7s  give  a  benefit  dance 
to-night,  an7  buy  Chris  Hazy  a  new 
peg-stick.  Every  feller  that  7s  willin7 
to  help,  hoi7  up  his  hand.77 

A  dozen  grimy  hands  were  waved 
on  high,  and  offers  of  assistance  came 
from  all  sides.  Mrs.  Wiggs  saw  that 
now  was  the  time  to  utilize  their  en 
thusiasm. 

"I  711  go  right  back  to  the  house,  an7 
git  Asia  to  write  out  the  tickets,  an7 
all  you  boys  kin  sell  ten  apiece.  Miss 
Hazy,  you  kin  come  over  an7  help  me 
git  the  house  ready,  an7  we  711  put  Chris 
to  cleanin7  lamp-chimbleys. 7  7 
142 


The  Benefit  Dance 

Under  this  able  generalship,  the  work 
was  soon  under  way;  the  boys  were  de 
spatched  with  the  tickets,  and  the  house 
was  being  put  straight— at  least  the  par 
lor  was.  It  would  have  required  many 
days  to  restore  order  to  the  chaos 
that  habitually  existed  in  the  house  of 
Wiggs. 

"Asia,  you  help  me  roll  these  here 
barrels  out  on  the  porch,  an'  I  '11  mop 
up  the  floor,"  said  Mrs.  Wiggs.  "Miss 
Hazy,  you  look  'round  in  the  kitchen, 
an'  see  if  you  can't  find  a  taller  candle. 
Seems  like  I  put  one  in  the  sugar-bowl 
—that  's  it !  Now,  if  you  '11  jes '  cut  it 
up  right  fine  it  '11  be  all  ready  to  put 
on  the  floor  when  I  git  done." 

When  the  floor  was  dry  and  the  can 
dle  sprinkled  over  it,  Australia  and  Eu- 
ropena  were  detailed  to  slide  upon  it 
until  it  became  slick. 

"Would  you  ast  ever 'body  to  bring 
143 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


a  cheer,  or  would  you  have  'em  already 
here?"  asked  Mrs.  Wiggs. 

"Oh,  le'  's  bring  'em  ourselves !"  in 
sisted  Asia,  who  had  been  to  a  church 
social. 

So  a  raid  was  made  on  the  neighbor 
hood,  and  every  available  chair  bor 
rowed  and  ranged  against  the  parlor 
wall. 

By  noon  the  boys  reported  most  of 
the  tickets  sold,  and  Mrs.  Wiggs  re 
ceived  the  funds,  which  amounted  to 
six  dollars. 

It  being  a  holiday,  everybody  was 
glad  to  come  to  the  dance,  especially  as 
the  proceeds  were  to  help  little  Miss 
Hazy. 

At  one  time  there  threatened  to  be 
trouble  about  the  music;  some  wanted 
Uncle  Tom,  the  old  negro  who  usually 
fiddled  at  the  dances,  and  others  pre 
ferred  to  patronize  home  talent  and 
144 


The  Benefit  Dance 

have  Jake  Schultz,  whose  accordion 
could  be  heard  at  all  hours  in  the  Cab 
bage  Patch. 

Mrs.  Wiggs  effected  a  compromise. 
'  i  They  kin  take  turn  about, "  she  ar 
gued;  "when  one  gits  tired,  the  other 
kin  pick  up  right  where  he  left  off,  an' 
the  young  folks  kin  shake  the'r  feet  till 
they  shoes  drop  off.  Uncle  Tom  an' 
Jake,  too,  is  a  heap  sight  better  than 
them  mud-gutter  bands  that  play  'round 
the  streets." 

"Wight  we  could  fix  the  yard  up 
some, ' '  said  Asia,  when  there  was  noth 
ing  more  to  be  done  in  the  parlor. 

1 '  I  got  a  Japanee  lantern, ' '  suggested 
Miss  Hazy,  doubtfully. 

'  '  The  very  thing ! ' '  said  Mrs.  Wiggs. 
"We  '11  hang  it  in  the  front  door. 
Billy 's  makin '  a  Jack  o '  lantern  to  set  on 
the  fence.  Fer  the  land's  sake!  what  's 
John  Bagby  a-bringin7  in  here?" 
10  145 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


The  grocery  boy,  staggering  under 
the  weight  of  an  ice-cream  freezer  and 
carrying  something  wrapped  in  white 
paper,  came  up  the  path. 

"It  's  fer  you,"  he  said,  grinning 
broadly.  John  was  cross-eyed,  so  Miss 
Hazy  thought  he  looked  at  Mrs.  Wiggs, 
and  Mrs.  Wiggs  thought  he  looked  at 
Miss  Hazy. 

However,  the  card  on  the  freezer  dis 
pelled  all  doubt: 

' '  Fer  mrs  Wiggs  on  her  50  Birthday 
compelments  of  The  Naybors." 

Under  the  white  paper  was  a  large, 
white  iced  cake,  with  a  "W"  in  cinna 
mon  drops  on  top. 

"How  'd  they  ever  know  it  was  my 
birthday  ?"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Wiggs,  in 
delight.  "Why,  I  'd  even  forgot  it  my 
self  !  We  '11  have  the  cake  fer  the  party 
146 


The  Benefit  Dance 

to-night.  Somehow,  I  never  feel  like 
good  things  b'long  to  me  till  I  pass  'em 
on  to  somebody  else.77 

This  necessitated  a  supply  of  saucers 
and  spoons,  and  friends  were  again 
called  upon  to  provide  as  many  as  pos 
sible. 

The  Wiggses  were  quite  busy  until 
seven  o'clock,  when  they  stopped  to 
make  their  toilets. 

"  Where  's  Europena?"  asked  Asia. 

Nobody  had  seen  her  for  some  time. 
Search  was  made,  and  she  was  discov 
ered  standing  on  a  chair  in  a  corner 
of  the  parlor,  calmly  eating  the  cinna 
mon  drops  off  the  birthday  cake.  Fin 
gers  and  mouth  were  crimson,  and  the 
first  stroke  of  the  "W"  was  missing. 
Billy  was  so  indignant  that  he  insisted 
on  immediate  punishment. 

"No,  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  whip  her  on 
my  birthday,  Billy.  She  's  sorry;  she 
147 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


says  she  is.  Besides,  the  cake  ain't 
spoiled;  it  's  jes'  a  'N'  now,  'stid  of  a 
'W,J  an'  N  stands  fer  Nancy  jes'  as 
good  as  W  stands  fer  Wiggs!" 

The  first  guest  to  arrive  was  Mr. 
Krasmier ;  he  had  paid  ten  cents  toward 
the  refreshments,  and  proposed  to  get 
his  money's  worth.  Mrs.  Eichorn  came 
early,  too,  but  for  a  different  reason; 
she  was  very  stout,  and  her  happiness 
for  the  evening  depended  largely  upon 
the  size  of  the  chair  she  secured. 

Half  the  spectators  had  arrived  be 
fore  the  hostess  appeared.  Her  delay 
was  caused  by  the  loss  of  her  false  curls, 
which  she  had  not  worn  since  the 
memorable  night  at  the  Opera  House. 
They  were  very  black  and  very  frizzled, 
and  had  been  bought  at  a  reduced  price 
from  a  traveling  salesman  some  ten 
years  before.  Mrs.  Wiggs  considered 
them  absolutely  necessary  to  her  toilet 
148 


The  Benefit  Dance 

on  state  occasions.  Hence  consternation 
prevailed  when  they  could  not  be  found. 
Drawers  were  upset  and  boxes  emptied, 
but  with  no  success. 

When  hope  was  about  abandoned, 
Asia  suddenly  darted  out  to  the  shed 
where  the  children  kept  their  play 
things.  When  she  returned  she  trium 
phantly  displayed  a  battered  doll,  arm 
less  and  footless,  but  with  a  magnificent 
crowning  glory  of  black,  frizzed  hair. 

Mrs.  Wiggs  waited  until  all  the  guests 
assembled  before  she  made  her  speech 
of  thanks  for  the  cake  and  cream.  It 
was  a  very  fine  speech,  having  been 
written  out  beforehand  by  Mr.  Bagby. 
It  began,  "  Ladies  and  gents,  it  gives 
me  pleasure—  "  but  before  Mrs.  Wiggs 
got  half  through  she  forgot  it,  and  had 
to  tell  them  in  her  own  way  how  grate 
ful  she  was.  In  conclusion  she  said: 
4  *  Could  n't  nobody  be  more  obliged  than 
10*  149 


Mm.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


what  1.  am!  Looks  like  nice  things  is 
always  comin'  my  way.  Hope  God  '11 
bless  you  all!  The  musicianers  have 
come,  so  we  '11  begin  the  party  with  a 
Virginer  reel." 

The  young  people  scampered  to  their 
places,  and  when  Mr.  Eichorn  made  a 
bow  to  Mrs.  Wiggs  she  laughingly  took 
her  place  at  the  head  of  the  line,  and 
at  the  first  strains  of  ' '  Old  Dan  Tucker ' ' 
she  went  down  the  middle  with  a  grace 
and  spirit  that  flatly  contradicted  the 
little  red  fifty  on  the  birthday  cake. 

"Swing  yer  pahtners,  balance  all, 
Swing  dat  gal  wid  a  water-fall. 
Skip  light,  ladies,  de  cake  'a  all  dough, 
Nebber  min'  de  weather,  so  de  win'  don't  blow.'1 

Old  Uncle  Tom  was  wanning  up  to 
his  work,  and  the  fun  waxed  furious. 
Asia,  looking  very  pretty  in  her  new 
crepon,  cast  shy  glances  at  Joe  Eichorn, 
who  had  been  "keeping  company"  of 
150 


The  Benefit  Dance 

late.  Billy,  for  whom  there  was  no 
room  in  the  reel,  let  off  his  energy  in 
the  corner  by  a  noisy  execution  of  the 
" Mobile  Buck/'  Australia  and  Euro- 
pena  sat  in  the  window  with  Chris  Hazy, 
and  delightedly  clapped  time  to  the 
music. 

When  the  dance  ended,  Mrs.  Wiggs 
went  to  the  door  to  get  cool.  She  was 
completely  out  of  breath,  and  her  false 
front  had  worked  its  way  down  over 
her  eyebrows. 

"Look— comin',  ma!"  called  Billy. 

When  Mrs.  Wiggs  saw  who  it  was  she 
hastened  down  to  the  gate. 

"Howdy,  Mr.  Bob;  howdy,  Miss 
Lucy !  Can't  you  git  right  out  an'  come 
in!  We  're  bavin'  a  birthday  party 
an'  a  benefit  dance  fer  Chris  Hazy's 
leg." 

"No,  thanks,"  said  Redding,  trying 
in  vain  not  to  look  at  Mrs.  Wiggs 's 
151 


Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch 


head.  "We  just  stopped  by  to  tell  you 
the  good  news." 

' '  'Bout  Asia 's  position  ? ' '  asked  Mrs. 
Wiggs,  eagerly. 

"Yes,  about  that,  and  something  else 
besides.  Wliat  would  you  say  if  I  told 
you  that  I  was  going  to  marry  the 
prettiest,  sweetest,  dearest  girl  in  the 
world  f" 

"Why,  that  's  Miss  Lucy!"  gasped 
Mrs.  Wiggs,  more  breathless  than  ever. 
Then  the  truth  flashed  upon  her,  and 
she  laughed  with  them. 

"Oh,  sure  'nough!  Sure  'nough! 
I  ?m  jes'  pleased  to  death!"  She  did 
not  have  to  tell  them;  her  eyes,  though 
suffering  a  partial  eclipse,  fairly 
beamed  with  joy  and  satisfaction. 
"An'  so,"  she  added,  "it  was  n't  the 
paint,  after  all!" 

When  they  had  driven  away,  she  lin 
gered  a  moment  at  the  gate.  Music 
152 


The  Benefit  Dance 

and  laughter  came  from  the  house  be 
hind  her,  as  she  stood  smiling  out  across 
the  moonlit  Cabbage  Patch.  Her  face 
still  held  the  reflected  happiness  of  the 
departed  lovers,  as  the  sky  holds  the 
rose-tints  after  the  sun  has  gone. 

"An7  they  're  goin'  to  git  married/' 
she  whispered  softly  to  herself;  "an' 
Billy  's  got  promoted,  an'  Asia  's  got 
a  place,  an'  Chris  '11  have  a  new  peg- 
stick.  Looks  like  ever 'thing  in  the 
world  comes  right,  if  we  jes'  wait  long 
enough ! ' ' 


153 


Pr 


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